It's All About the Climb

A day off.  This is such a rarity for me, especially the last few months when my life has been jam packed with my regular emergency room gig, plus racing, plus corporate events for my other two businesses.  Don't get me wrong, quickly growing businesses are a good problem to have, but it does come at a price.  For me it was the mocking of the ever growing pile of clutter that littered my entryway.  I had piles of Adirondack Ragnar stuff from late Sept, kids' cheer and football gear, a wide variety of jackets for four kids who need to be prepared for weather that has ranged from frost producing to 80 degrees in the last month.  Yes, I had looked forward to today.  I had even put it on my mental calendar.  I was attacking this mocking pile and finding the tile that existed beneath it.

So there it was, portable speaker on, my usual random play list going and a full scale attack on the pile.  I got it all done, with one thing left to do.  Unpack my race bag that had my medals that had yet to be ceremoniously placed on the rack.  As I walked to my makeshift office that exists just under the bay window in my front living room, ironically, Miley Cyrus' "The Climb" would come on just as I passed the amethyst colored urn on my mantle that is the temporary home of my mother.

"I can almost see it, that dream I'm dreaming"

I was suddenly reminded of the last time I saw her.  She was sitting across the table from from me on the lanai of a rental house in Florida 18 months ago.  We had had a dinner of Philly Cheesesteaks, an ironic find of hers living in Florida, but was something we had eaten when we briefly lived in Philly as kids.  I was explaining to her that I had 10 friends and we had made a motivational group to keep going.  We were planning this virtual 5k we would all do on the same day.  Everyone knew me from someplace else so we were 1DOS.  On and on I would go about my makeshift group of friends just trying to learn to be healthy. Given her and my track record of failing diets for decades, this was a concept she could get behind.  My mom was never an athlete, so the concept of a 5k was a little foreign to her, but she supported my recent 85 pound weight loss and recovery from a hip fracture and wanted to see the medals we had picked out for finishers. 

"There's a voice inside my head saying you'll never reach it Every step I'm taking, every move I make feels lost with no direction, my faith is shaking, but I gotta keep trying, gotta keep my head held high"

As I looked at her urn, I though about her sudden death and the circumstances surrounding it and suddenly clearly saw how shaken I was through the months that followed.  Over time, the footing would start to feel a bit more solid, and it got easier to look past the grief into the challenges unfolding in front of me.

"There's always gonna be another mountain, I'm always gonna wanna make it move, always gonna be an uphill battle, sometimes I'm gonna have to lose"

As I hang up my Adirondack Ragnar Swag, the medals I earned taking two twelve man teams to a relay from Saratoga, NY to Lake Placid, I paused for a moment to look at the Tongue Depressor medal. Tongue Mountain.  Freaking Tongue Mountain, six miles total, four miles up with 754 feet of elevation gain, and two miles straight down.  The hardest leg out of 36.  This was not to be my leg originally. The original team captain had an injury and I stepped in as captain.  I ended up taking the leg too.  In the weeks beforehand, I secretly was petrified.  I had never done this type of running straight uphill for miles, it was in the dark, and I was running with another person who is so much faster than me.  I told her I would slow her down.  I told her I would do my best to finish, but was not altogether sure I believed I could.  She assured me that speed was not an issue, we would do it together.

"A'int about how fast I get there, a'int about what's waiting on the other side, it's the climb"

My partner and I took off on the dark forest lined road, headlamps lighting our way, not even able to see the true hill that lay in front of us.  As predicted, she was faster, but kept tabs on me, not letting me give up on such a hard run, that truthfully was so steep in areas, I had to switch from a shortened incline stride of running to a longer stride of a walk to feel like I was covering any ground at all.  The setting was dark, and the trees I was sure were good camouflage for the legendary bears that lived in these mountains.  Oh yes.  Surely I could not outrun one of those on this hill.  Later, I would find out there was a reported clown on the course, now that would have truly been terrifying at that juncture. Somehow or another though, we would finally hit the fourth mile and begin the descent.  

"The struggles I'm facing, the chances I'm taking, sometimes might knock me down but, No, I'm not breaking.  I may not know it, but these are the moments that I'm going to remember most yeah, just got to keep going"

I had no idea what to expect on the other side, I had never even thought about it really, as I was so concerned with making it to the top.  As it turned out the decline down for two miles was every bit as steep, a whole new experience.  Truth be told, I had always been a bit afraid of that sort of decline so I was not altogether sure how it would go, but as it turns out me, gravity, and a certain element of unabashed fear did quite well together.  My partner proudly announced we did the first mile in 9:38.  Wait.  What?  I had never run a mile that fast on the road.  She gave me a look and said,"so, that's your fastest road mile?"  I said,"yes".  She smiled big and said,"No it isn't.  This one is.  Let's GO!" 

We kept going down, down, down... I could feel the anxiety creep in that I needed to stop.  This might be too fast.  I called to my running partner who had gotten in front of me on the narrow road, sensing the fear in me she said this,"Amy.  Pick your head up, focus on my back and go...."  

It was just starting to rain as we crossed the Tongue Mountain finish and got our medals after an incredulous 9:18 mile.  I would love to say all of the moisture on my face was sweat and rain, but that would be a lie.  Happy tears of conquering a mountain and the utter humbled feeling of the overwhelming support from my co-captain who is also a friend I have grown to love so much.  

Many other things met me on the other side of this climb.  There were new friendships with my two teams of 12.  There were so many individual firsts I had the utter joy to watch and celebrate.  There was the after party in a large rental house in Lake Placid where I am sure the laughter could be heard all around town.  More importantly there was commitment.  Commitment that now after conquering all of this, there surely are bigger mountains to take on and other things the 24 of us can do that we never imagined before.  

"Keep on moving, keep climbing, keep the faith baby, it's all about the climb"

Looking back at the paralyzing months after my mom's death, I'm quite certain that in her absence all she wanted for me all along was to keep my head up, focus on my tribe that is here in front of me for guidance, keep the faith and just keep pushing.  I think I will do just that  because I firmly believe the best is yet to come.