Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Barbed wire and monopoly

Today I went out for a short run to clear my head and recover from the marathon.  As soon as I got out there, I felt better.  In a way, I think that the first run after a marathon makes me feel as much like a runner as the marathon itself.  Because of the return, of the homeness.  I break into a glide (or a hobble) and remember.  After my first marathon I took ten days to recover before running again.  These days I take one or two, but the feeling is the same.  Relief.

I was in such a mood when I got home.  Grouchy, out of sorts, wanting to lash out at someone but knowing that I really didn't.  I don't have anyone to be mad at.  Spring is hard at work.  I went out to look at my garden: 14 young green bean plants uncurling in the dirt made me happy, but not completely.  I hadn't even totally planned on running since my foot has still been hurting, but suddenly I needed to really badly.  I came inside to change, searching like a crazy person for my stuff where I had thrown my bag when I got home Sunday.  Not only did I desperately need to run, but I very much needed to listen to Chris Pureka while I did it.  I tore up the house looking for headphones and finally found some.

Out on the road in the heat under the blue sky and trees, I found my peace.  "Swann Song" came on, with the chorus, "It was a good life, yeah it was a good life. I'd do it all again."  I started thinking about the things I would do again, the things from my childhood that I would like to do maybe even just one more time.  I would like to wander aimlessly in the country and slide under a barbed wire fence like I go in and out of doors these days.  I would like to play in another softball tournament.  Not as an adult.  As a 12 year old, finish up dusty and sit back against bat bags drinking cokes and taking off my cleats and socks and looking at my hot, dirty feet.  I would like to spend a night with my childhood best friend, Cristi, laughing and laughing at Skip Bo and the very first Mario Brothers and I would like her to beat me at Monopoly while her cat lay on the top of the box next to us.  I would like to play catch with Taffy one more time.  I would like her to bring me her tennis ball and drop it at my feet and I would like to throw it and throw it down the hall in the house I grew up in, bouncing it off my mom and dad's bedroom door and watching Taffy put the breaks on and scramble back up the hallway for the ball.  I would like to drive in the dark down a country road in the summer with all the windows down and watch the lightning bugs in the field, so many that the field looked alive and full and magical.  I would like to walk down the basement stairs again, only one stair with carpet, and maybe turn old bits of sheet rock to dust outside the basement door with my brother.  I would like to fall asleep on the floor on a sheet in front of a box fan in the middle of the summer in a house with no air conditioning and wake up chilled.

I would like to know where the mark is that divides my childhood from my adulthood, where the line is that marks what was possible then and what is impossible now.  I would like back the parts of me that I gave away in my teenage years for no good reason.

Running took me there, running and the sweet salty sound of Chris Pureka's voice.  Right now I'm not sure if it's the best place to be, but I do know that I bless the content feeling in my legs and knowing (or hoping) that it will be there for me next time.

Maybe you can go where I went.  (Or in other words, go listen to the song that took me there.)

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Hogeye Marathoning

Today I finished the Hogeye Marathon in about 4:44.  It was my fourth marathon and my third in six weeks.  It was the race I needed to finish in order to qualify to be part of the Marathon Maniacs.  I feel like a maniac, but I also feel pretty amazing.

I don't really feel like posting a real race report.  The trails were pretty and the course was nice and the volunteer support was amazing.  The hills were killer and I got tired pretty early on.  I wasn't quite sure until, oh, mile 24, maybe? that I would be able to finish because of the weather.  Running along a field with a full on view of a giant thunderstorm is disconcerting enough when you haven't been told there's a tornado warning.  And like I said, I was tired.  It's amazing how much different the experience is when you're well-trained and tapered.  I ran 4:22:04 in Little Rock.  It hurt, but it felt solid.  I struggled in Jackson and I struggled today.  I walked quite a bit.  I know after another proper training period I'll be able to post some more good times.

But let's get to the important stuff.  J was wonderful and supportive, as usual.  We had fun Saturday evening at dinner with Allen and Susan, and then J, Ty, and I enjoyed our evening at the house just sitting around.  That kind of comfortable time is priceless.

Allen had mentioned finding me along the trail, and it was so sweet of him to come out.  He met me first at around 7.5 miles.  He and Susan saw me sitting on the ground to cover a blister a bit after that and checked on me.  Then I saw them at around mile 15 where the turnaround was, and towards the end around mile 23 (he reassured me that the tornado was going north of us.  I really was reassured because I figured if he thought I was in actual danger he would tell me.)  When I saw them I would smile and wave and say thanks and go on.  I would be past them in a few seconds, but seeing them out there meant so much to me.  The support and love of so many people is such a treasure.  I soak it up and appreciate it every time, whether it's J carrying Ty from the hotel at 4:30 am in Tupelo or coordinating the Team Christi effort in Little Rock, my sister, Lee lee, Roy, Kristen, and Jason being at the finish there, my dad dropping everything to go to Jackson with Ty and me, J rolling out of bed before 6 this morning and then making it back to the finish with my bag of stuff and a towel (that Allen told her to get) in the threatening rain to pick me up, or Allen and Susan driving around Fayetteville to cheer me on.  Then there's everyone who encourages me online, comments on photos, sends congrats.  I am truly grateful for everything.

I had only a few deep thoughts while running today.  Most of my thoughts had to do with the clouds and the direction of the wind, the hills, and my legs hurting.  But I did think at one point that running a marathon (or just running!! or just living!!) means stopping when you have to but starting again even though you know it's going to hurt.  It means doing something hard, cursing at it, finishing, celebrating, immediately sort of forgetting how much it kind of sucked and looking forward to doing it again.  It teaches you to know that there will be people who are faster than you, but it doesn't matter because it's not about winning, it's about doing.  It's about putting aside your self-consciousness and claiming something that will make you proud and make you feel strong.  Of course, in my opinion, this is all life stuff.

Right now I don't have another marathon planned until September.  That could change! ;)