I would take the slap bracelet hand off, adjust the music and go. At first, all of the technical things I had learned were running through my head. Breathe. Relax. Check your pace, 10:40, yep, let's keep it here. One foot in front of the other. There was a hill with a curve on a busy street without a sidewalk. What do I know about a hill? Oh yeah. Channel your trainer. She always says,"lean into the hill, pump your arms and breathe", thanks Katie, yep, still hovering at 10:40, but was breathing hard from the hill. Recover. Flat road. Fifteen seconds. A voice of another coach, "it takes fifteen seconds to settle in and recover", 12, 13, 14, ok , I am ok. Keep going. One foot in front of the other.
Around mile two, I would find my intense focus on technique would suddenly be interrupted with the overwhelming scent of lilacs. There it was, a six foot lilac bush in full bloom. When I was growing up I spent a lot of time at my grandmother's house in Clinton, Iowa. She had big bushes like this too. As my brain was flooded with memories of her, Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" came on. "My Mama told me when I was young, we're all born superstars...." as my mind shifted gears to memories of my mom I realized how much I would have loved to have both my mom and grandmother here to see me do just this. Neither of them really got the chance to see me healthy. They had both, instead, had a front row seat to decades of obesity. They had dried my tears and made me feel loved when I was not so sure some days. Yes, it would be amazing to have them here. However, with the thick scent of lilacs, a beautiful clear day, and the perfect lyrics, somehow I think they were watching. I would finish that leg with "Paradise City" blasting in my ears, and my team rallying around me and the belief that my mom and grandmother were cheering just as loudly.
Leg two proved to be a bit more harrowing. This was my night run. Probably the time to truly grasp the reality that I had never run at night with a headlamp on uncommon ground, was not five minutes before I set out to do just that. My teammate who does this routinely sent me off with the advice to "keep an eye on the three feet ahead of you." The first few hundred yards were me trying to figure out how to focus the headlamp, watch the ground, and still look ahead to where I was going. I kinda felt like a baby giraffe learning to walk. I was downright anxious and all over the place, until halfway up a hill into the second mile I would cross an intersection. Amanda Street. I have a friend Amanda. She always seems to be the voice of reason and encouragement for me. She has a way of squashing my doubts and manages to keep me grounded a lot of the time. OK Amanda. I got this. Lean into the hill. Pump my arms. Breathe. Point the headlamp three feet ahead. Check pace. 10:24. Wait, what? That's quick for me, but I feel fine. Keep going. I finally passed the three mile mark onto another hill. This one had a van parked on the side. Two men were getting out and crossing the street to where I was running. They seemed to want something. Wait. It's dark. I looked around and realized, there were no other runners here. In fact there was nobody here but these people and me and my headlamp. Well, they looked like a Ragnar team. I was suddenly wishing I had thought to bring pepper spray. If these were not ax murderers and truly were the Ragnar folk they appeared to be, maybe I was lost. Did I miss a sign? Was I off course? Crap. I am ahead of my pace and doing fine. Yet now I am lost. I finally took my ear bud out as they were just 3 feet away,"am I ok?" It was then the man would say, barely above a whisper,"great job runner."
I would later learn, Ragnar etiquette is to keep from disrupting the neighborhoods at night. So, honking and yelling to encourage runners was not really acceptable. So, this creepy whispery form of odd encouragement was the trade off. I would also later learn this encourager was famous for this sort of thing. Later, this phrase would somehow take hold in our sleep deprived van causing us to insert it wherever appropriate into conversation many times over the days that followed, each time meeting with fits of laughter. In fact, we now have developed a hash tag I can't look at without giggling (#greatjobrunner). Nonetheless, I would finish that 3.2 mile leg, ironically again to "Paradise City", faster than even my team thought, as they casually stood at the hand off chatting, not even realizing I had finished,"HEY!" I would shout. They laughed,"oh sorry you got done quick!" I would look at my watch and realize I really had. Fast for even me. Perhaps it was the fear of the dark or the desire to quickly put some distance between me and the "great job runner"guy.
Our van would finish all of our second legs at a cool 2:00 am, only to find a quick shower and a couple of fitful hours of rest on a cold gym floor before we would take on the third and final legs. Grateful for my jet propelled Starbucks latte before I began mine on day two, I would start my final 4.6 miles on a cloudy, cold and even a bit rainy day. I gave myself all of my running instructions as I plodded along just as I had before. Before long I would find myself four miles in, realizing I had done it. Two years of fear. Two years of training. Learning how to run with control and even conquer the hills without losing pace. I would cross the street and into the park where I knew the handoff was. Yes I had this. I was like a freaking superhero..... until.,, Wait. Shit. My left shoe feels lose. No. No! The laces started smacking me in the ankle. NO! I am making a badass triumphant photo finish. My shoe is untied. I should say screw it and keep going. Well, I had 2/10's of a mile to go. Then again, I do not have a history of extreme grace. I have a history of being clutzy. Like when I broke my ankle rolling it on a Lego. Hm. There are other runners around. I will look like an idiot stopping to tie my shoe so close to then. I then had to think about what I would look like as my teammate said,"faceplanting four feet from the finish."
As I argued with myself, I began to think about how many times we set big goals and look so hard at the glory of the finish that we fail to see the things that can ultimately cause us to face plant before we get there. There are the unexpected curve balls life throws at us like an illness or injury we didn't plan on, or a bad diet day and suddenly the super hero sensation of crossing the finish line goes away and we find ourselves face down and done. Maybe instead the thing to do is face the obstacle. Stop. Retie the shoe, take a deep breath and make the finish great. As for me? Yes. I stopped and tied the shoe, and went on to dominate the finish line with my third round of "Paradise City", amazed that the shuffle feature on my itunes seemed to always come back to this. I had hugs from my team and fresh tears, making that little pause well worth it as I remained firmly upright.
Since the race, I have had three more runs, only this time with double knotted shoes and now at that 10:24 pace. I even sanctioned off a very special corner of my flower beds to plant my new lilac bush, proving to myself, I have amazing people in my life who's voices are slowly drowning out the voices of self doubt that used to play loudly in my head. I also am beginning to see I am probably capable of more than I ever thought, and that even though my mom and grandmother are no longer here, their spirit is strong. The best is truly yet to come.
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