Carol King's Story

Carol stood at the starting line of the St. Jude’s Memphis Marathon alone; this no different than how she lived most her life.  It took years before being alone no longer felt lonely.   Her nerves somersaulted inside her.  Self-doubt crept in; perching itself on her shoulder whispering it’s all too familiar haunts.  She shook it off.  Not today.   Today was her day.

The horn blew and the sea of people ebbed forward.  Carol began running her first marathon.  The nerves she felt moments before lost their potency in the familiar and rhythmic steps of her running.  Comfort surrounded her as she found her pace.

Becoming a runner was something Carol never thought she would do.  Running was for athletic people – fit people – not women in their 40s, with weight to lose and had spent a life far away from sports.  The image of her beloved grandmother comes to mind as she recalls a private moment between them.  Carol, the youngest of three children, was a young child when she learned the truth about her birth.  Life was not easy and a third child to feed was not ideal.  Carol’s mother was not happy about the third pregnancy and tried to conceal it.   Carol felt the harshness in the reality of her grandmother’s words and vowed to never be a burden to anyone, never to ask for anything including the playing of sports in school.  An innocent conversation between a grandmother and granddaughter solidified walls Carol spent decades living behind.  Bricks of “don’t ask for anything”, “take care of yourself”, and “be self-sufficient at all costs” were mortared into the walls around her heart with a thick layer of doubt and low self-esteem.

“Walking In Memphis” plays on Carol’s iPod and pushes the memory from her mind.     She is running the streets, not walking them.  She loves the irony.  The route is peppered with bands all feeding her energy as she passes by.   Mile 10 a woman runs next to her, struggling to finish the half marathon.  Carol encourages her, telling her “You got this.  You can do it.”

These are not empty words of encouragement.  This is truth spoken from lessons learned after hard earned victories.   One of Carol’s first victories came at the end of a training run.  Brand new to running, she had just run 20 minutes without walking for the first time in her life.   The realization of what she just accomplished overwhelmed her, Carol is amazed at what she just learned she is capable of.  In the middle of the park’s path she breaks down and cries; each tear stripping away deep seeded self doubt.  

The woman listens to Carol’s encouragement and forges forward.  Two miles later they part ways as the half marathon route turns and the full marathon runners continue forward.  Here the runners greatly thin out.    With less people around, Carol realizes how few people run 26.2 miles.    Something happens within her.  Instead of feeling out of place with this realization, it strengthens her determination.  A lonely road did not scare her, it empowered her.

Miles were clicking by and an old injury began to flare up.  Exhaustion coupled with pain can weaken the strongest of resolve.  Carol does not want to quit.  She looks up at the apartment building she passes.  Above the street on a private balcony a young girl waves at her.  The girl’s smile gives Carol motivation.  There would be no giving up.  Carol pushes herself forward to show that little girl on the balcony and to prove to the little girl sitting across from her grandmother so many years ago, that there is no limit to the greatness within each of us. 

A sign reads ‘Mile 20’.  Carol is now running the final miles of the marathon.  These are the toughest miles and her injury adds to the difficulty.    Seeing Carol’s pain, a stranger runs alongside her and offers her some Advil.  In desperation she accepts.    This injury would not be what stops her.  She had come too far, she had too much to prove.

Standing in their kitchen, full of excitement after walking in a local race with a friend, Carol told her husband of her plans to run the half marathon the following year.  A terrifying goal for someone who had never run before, yet she could not deny the spark of desire she felt.  He looked at her and sneered, “Yeah.  Right.”  The spark had now became a flame.

To run the marathon had been her decision, her goal and it gave her tremendous purpose.  He tried to feed her self-doubt. Years of haircuts and hair colors, diets and exercise plans all failed to make him love her more than each of his passing girlfriends.  He knew how to make her feel worthless.  Yet, she continued to train.   Running was giving something back to her.    It was chipping away at the walls she hid behind.

Mile 21, 22…the bricks kept coming down.  Her whole life she believed in the fallacy of the smile she wore.  The marathon stripped her of that smile and showed her it was ok to struggle.  The marathon was showing her the struggle is what makes you stronger; it lays a foundation of greater strength than the bricks of self-doubt she’d always known.

Mile 23, 24…Carol reflected on the changes running has given her.  She remembers those first months of running.  Afraid of anyone seeing her, Carol’s running took place well into the night.  If anyone saw her, she felt surely they would laugh at her.  After all she wasn’t a real runner; she was an overweight housewife completely dead on the inside.  Real runners are fast and svelte and athletic and happy.  Carol is no longer the woman hiding in the cover of night.   She runs in the daylight through the park she loves.  Bags of clothes - now several sizes too big - were donated to charity and at 40 years old her training has made her an athlete.  She no longer needs the anti-depressants that sustained her.  Carol knows, even now at mile 24 with a body tired and wanting to quit, she is happier than she has ever been.  Running has given Carol herself.

Completing Mile 25 brings comfort knowing she is now in the final mile of the marathon.    Her determination to finish pushes away her pain.  Carol puts one foot in front of the other.  Each footstep taking her farther away from the woman she once was.  She runs from 20 years of infidelity and pain, 20 years of not being good enough.   She runs from the divorce he told her of.  She runs from the sad and scared child sitting across from her grandmother.

The final 385 yards lay ahead of her. Carol runs toward the finish line.  Each step drawing her closer to the woman she has become; a woman who proved to herself she owns a strength she hadn't dreamt capable.  Carol became a woman who came out from behind the walls confining her and began living in the world of possibility.  She had given herself a goal and she was achieving it.  In doing so, Carol has given herself one of life's greatest gifts, the gift of confidence.

The end is in sight.  Her friend Debby is waiting.  Carol runs across the finish line and collapses into the arms of her friend. Carol weeps.  She cries because the person she once was is gone forever.  She cries for the new woman born out on the marathon course that day.  Carol cries for her birth into a new life.  A life she was meant to live. 

Pat's Story

The air was cool; the weather was warm.  A juxtaposition lending to a perfect race day morning.  The coolness of the October morning would hold due to the overcast skies above.  Pat glances up at the sky and smiles; he'd been training 6 months for this day and the weather seems to promise perfection for a runner.

Standing in a crowd of 8,000 people, Pat took in his surroundings.  Each runner nervously waiting for the gun to go off and trying to calm the jitters inside.  Pat was no different, but he knew the pre-race anxiety would help deliver a strong race.

The gun went off, the crowd surged forward and in that instant the testing of all his hard training had begun.  It was do-or-die time.  Crowds lined the streets of Portland, Oregon cheering them on as they began their 26.2 mile journey.  Japanese Taiko Drummers played in perfect unison letting their powerful beats echo off the downtown buildings.  Pat could feel the drums as he ran by.

Pat's goal was to take the first mile easy and not go out too fast; a mistake often made in the marathon leaving the runner too tired in the final miles.  The last miles were tough enough and there was no reason to add to it.  Mile marker 1 approaches and looking at his watch Pat wonders if he took the first mile too slow.  As planned, he picks up the pace.

The miles came and went and Pat felt strong.  Each water stop he was careful to walk a few seconds and drink what was needed.  Leaving the only out and back section of the race - a industrial park made interesting only by seeing the faces of other runners going in the opposite direction - he made his way toward the Saint John Bridge.  The climb to the top of the bridge would be the biggest hill he would encounter.  He was ready and knew with his quickened pace, he'd gathered a two minute cushion.

Countless hours were spent in hill training, hundreds of miles were run through the hill-side trails of the town in which he lived.  Hills are tough, a hill at mile 18 is cruel; it provides a visual interpretation of the battle beginning inside.  The key is to not let it infiltrate your determination.  With tired legs and breathless lungs, Pat crested that hill.  The view from the bridge over the Willamette River was beautiful and allowed him to take his mind off the hurt that follows cresting a hill.

Pat found himself running through residential streets peppered with homeowners cheering  for each runner.  He drew on their enthusiasm.  Running over some rolling hills tired him.  He was well into Dragon Territory; the land that exists between miles 20 to 26.  A marathoner enters these miles with a dose of intrepidation and incredible amounts of respect.  Race-day demons and dragons lurk in these miles, stalking the runner while looking for signs of weakness.  The legs of the runner are moving, but it is only the sheer determination propelling them.  The mind must stay strong to keep the demons and dragons away.

Mile 24 they attacked.  Pat fought hard at keeping the exhaustion from winning. The mantras he had scrawled on his hand went unread as the energy needed to turn his palm upward to see them seemed too great. He relied solely on the utterings of his heart echoing in his mind, "Finish, finish, finish." 

The dragon leeches onto his back and whispers, "You can walk now, it's ok.  You'll just be happy you finished."  The chatter in his head becomes louder, every ounce of him wanting to stop.  He fights the demons.  His legs feel like concrete.  He fights the dragon.  His body begs him to quit.  His determination the only thread holding onto his race day dream.  The thread is worn and dangerously close to breaking.  Pat chooses to listen only to the rhythmic voice repeating, "Finish, finish, finish."

Closing in on the final stretch, the crowds thicken and their cheers are louder.  His friends are near the finish line screaming his name.  He hears no voices but one, the solitary voice carrying him home with "Finish, finish, finish".  He crosses the finish line, leaving the race behind him.  He stops.  He is now standing in the reality of what he'd done.  The race clock tells no lie.  Pat looks at his watch.  He had fought and won his Boston qualifying time.  Every emotion washed over him and the accumulation of those emotions only seen by others as they tumble softly down his cheek.  There is no fight left and he lets the tears fall.

A person drapes a medal around Pat's neck, bringing him back to reality.  He smiles through his tears and says, "Thank you".  He walks away from the finish line and in a private moment he whispers to himself, "Nice job" and looks to find the friends who are the only ones who will understand.  

Beth's Story

The streets of the town were lined with people. An excitement that only an Olympic Trials can bring, filled the air. 10 year old Beth held the hand of her father, staying safely by his side. The women’s marathon was running through the streets of Olympia, Washington and would soon be nearing where Beth stood. In an instant, Joan Benoit Samuelson runs by, leaving behind her sprinkles of marathon dreams in the mind of a little girl.

“Daddy,” Beth said, “someday I am going to run a marathon.”


*******
It was winter and Mary Kay was working hard on the training for her second marathon. This petite Southern Belle had been watching Beth run on the treadmill at the local health club for quite some time before introducing herself. The two personalities clicked into place like the last two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle; neither one realizing the pieces were missing until they had fallen perfectly into place. They made plans to meet that weekend and run.


Beth had never forgotten the dream born of a 10 year old girl to run a marathon, and watched with great admiration as Mary Kay trained for her race. Beth, who enjoyed the competition of racing the shorter distances, soon found herself running the longer training runs with Mary Kay.


Mary Kay and Beth ran well together. Harmony was found in their footsteps and they ran strong and effortlessly. The best of friendships are solidified in running side by side. Life and distance running bring many of the same emotions and opportunities. During the difficulties, the other takes the lead and encourages until strength is found to continue on. While the times are easy, laughter is heard and conversation is light. The time will come, in running and in life, when you must lean on your running partner and trust them without question. The miles were more than just a run for them, the miles were their lifelines.


Beth knew how to compete in the short and mid-distance races, but a marathon was something different. Not believing she was anywhere near the fitness level required for 26.2 miles, she always waved off the nudges Mary Kay would give her to run a marathon. That is until the day Beth finished a 22 mile training run with Mary Kay by her side.


“You are ready. There is no reason why you can’t run the Capital City Marathon with me.” Mary Kay encouraged. The next day, Beth mailed off her entry form. The hopes and dreams born of a 10 year old girl came alive that day. And with Mary Kay by her side, she would toe the line of her very first marathon.

********

The tears came. She knew they would. Beth blinked back the tears of joy she had welling up inside of her. It’s not every day one stands in the moment of an aspiration coming true. And yet here she was at the starting line of her first 26.2 mile adventure and sharing it with Mary Kay. She looks at Mary Kay and smiles. Tears speak what words cannot utter.


A horn blows and the race begins. Beth and Mary Kay fell into a familiar rhythm and easy conversation making the first half of the marathon speed by. Shortly after, Mary Kay began to slow and encouraged Beth to keep going. Beth hesitated, Mary Kay encouraged, and the competitor in Beth sparked. With her strong pace and Mary Kay’s blessing, she pushed forward.


On her own, she continued to race well. Mile 20 came and with it she hit The Wall, making it extremely difficult to stay on pace. By mile 21 her left quad began to cramp, forcing her to stop and stretch. In stretching her quad, her hamstring tightens. In pain and miserable, she hears an all too familiar laugh. May Kay has caught up to Beth, and with the authority of drill sergeant she barks, “Keep moving, stop stretching”


Beth listens. And it hurts. But with sheer determination, she keeps her eyes focused on Mary Kay ahead of her. Mary Kay is pulling away and Beth discovers the power of the marathon. Alone, hurting and fighting a mental battle she looks inward, digging deep. These are the tough miles, the miles in which one discovers a strength never known before.


Beth continues forward, knowing her friend has gone before her. With the final mile ahead of her a new found energy emerges. The finish line is in sight and with it, Mary Kay cheering her on. As she got closer, Beth could hear Mary Kay screaming, “We qualified! We qualified!” Knowing their times were fast enough to qualify them to run the Boston marathon, plans were being made to run it together even before leaving the finisher’s chute.


Beth and Mary Kay ran 5 marathons together, including Boston on April 15, 2002. Running friends see the worst, bring out the best and always believe in the strength they see in you. When Mary Kay received the news she had breast cancer, Beth knew she would see her friend through the ugly miles they knew lay ahead. Mary Kay’s fight ended on December 29, 2006. Beth now runs alone.


Her foot falls quietly on the streets of her town. Beth’s love of running died with Mary Kay that day. She runs to forget, she runs to remember, and the miles are lonely.  In the solitary miles Beth feels the closest to her friend.

It would take 2½ years before finding the courage to run another marathon. Strength emerged, and in the miles ran that race day Mary Kay was there. When the struggles came, Beth could hear the echoing words of Mary Kay, “Keep moving”.