Last Chance Marathon

Large, white clouds obscure Mount Baker yet help create a spectacular sunrise with the morning sun's rays of red exploding behind them.  A beautiful start to the last day of the year.  A couple hundred of us milled around the start line trying to keep warm.  It wasn't long before the countdown began, someone yelled "Go!" and we were running.

Last Chance Marathon would be my fifth of the year and a perfect way to end the year.  Knowing this trail was not an easy one and not conducive to a personal best, I was using this race as a celebration of my 2011 year of running; every step would be enjoyed.  

Once we got onto the trail the crowd seemed to space out pretty quickly.  It wasn't long before a woman, after seeing my jacket, approached me telling me she too was a Marathon Maniac.  For the next mile or two we talked of races we've done while the trail's crushed rock crunched under our feet.  Entering Arroyo Park the trail became a single track and she took off in front of me.  I concentrated on my foot falls on this technical part of the trail.

Mile 4 a man commented on my jacket and how he was working toward becoming a Maniac.  I slowed my pace to talk with him.  John is a soldier, stationed 3 hours south in Fort Lewis.  This was his second lifetime marathon.  We shared a mile before he told me to move on as he had to slow it down.

My husband had positioned himself to be at mile 5 and as this was on out and back course which we would do twice, I'd see him 4 times.  I was feeling good and in need of nothing so he simply cheered me on; as well as on my return.  Reversing the route I made my way back to the park in which we started.  Half marathoners were finished and full marathoners went back out for the second and final loop.

As expected the runners thinned out tremendously, giving me plenty of alone time to celebrate my final marathon of the year.  Slivers of light were beginning to break through the winter's forest.  Entering into Arroyo Park the sound of the creek greeted me.  The descent was rapid and soon the trail snaked it's way alongside the creek.  The rains had swollen its waters and rushed over rock and fallen trees.  The trail, peppered with roots and rocks, kept my attention.  Small wooden bridges latticed their way over the creek and washouts.  Winter's leafless maples dressed only with thick green moss lined the muddy trail.  The switchbacks took me from the creek to the top of the valley.  A steep ascent, I walked out of the park onto the trail. 

At the trail head I heard people cheering for me as I emerged.  I smile when I realize it is my friends Arlane and Amy, who after running the back trails and stumbled upon the marathon route kept an eye out for me as they knew I was there.  I stop and give them big hugs.  A complete surprise and one that gave me a boost.  After we talk a bit, they cheer me on my way and turn away to finish their run.

I am now heading toward Dennis and feel blessed to have such great friends and a husband up ahead standing in the cold waiting to see if I need anything.  My hands are cold and he rushes to get me my gloves.  After an orange slice, a hug, and kiss I'm on my way toward the final turn around point.  Reaching it I give those at the aid station high fives and head back for the final 6.2 miles of the run.

The trail is muddy and squishes under foot.  I maneuver my way around to the driest sections.  I see no one ahead of me and no one behind me.  I stop for a brief moment.  Not a sound was heard.  Standing in the woods, I listen to nature.  I feel peace and thank God for such beautiful scenery.  I run on celebrating the beauty around me. 

A man with a speedy shuffle is coming toward me.  I ask him if his name is Mel.  With a mischievous smile he tells me it is.  Shaking his hand I introduce myself and tell him it is wonderful to see him out here running marathons again.  In the spring, at the age of 77 he had fallen out of a tree and took 6 months to recover.  A man who routinely ran 20 marathons a year spent no time feeling sorry for himself, recovered quickly and came back to running marathons the previous month.  His smile warmed the chill out of the day.

At mile 21 my husband filled my water bottle and sent me on my way as he went off to an appointment.  Despite being tired from the rigors of this trail race, I felt good.  The trail occasionally afforded spectacular views of the Pacific Ocean. It was easy to be lost in thought with such beautiful vistas.  Madrona trees hung precariously over large rock face as if a small wind would cause them to tumble down the mountainside. 



 I enter in Arroyo Park for the last and final time.  With a little over two miles to go there is a bounce in my step and I'm celebrating my final 2 miles of 2011.  Takao Suzuki, although running the race himself, pauses to snap my picture. Making my way up and out of the ravine I notice someone at the top of the hill.  It takes a moment for me to realize it is my coach Pat.  Once he saw me, his encouragement started bringing a big smile to my face.  At the top of the hill he gives me a big hug.  I am overwhelmed.  Knowing he had a full day of commitments he made time to find me along the course just to encourage me on the last of the biggest hills I'd face on the course.  With a final pat on the back he sent me for my final ascent reminding me once at the top it would be downhill all the way to the finish.  A mantra I'd repeat several times over the final miles.

Mile 25 came and I celebrated each step.  The feelings of being incredibly blessed welled up inside and were bubbling at the surface.  I rounded the corner taking an off-shoot of the trail into the park.  Nearing the finishline I do not see the clock ticking off the time, I see only one thing.  My coach had driven to the finish to cheer me home and celebrate the finish with me. 

This final run of the year was not about running my fastest time, it was simply about the run.  Driving home, the emotions of the day flooded over me.  How incredibly blessed I am to have a spouse who braves hours of cold to support me and friends who search me out solely to encourage me.  Their acts of selflessness touch me deeply.  My heart is full.  I can't think of a better way to close the year.

Christmas Blessings

Rain bounced off the windshield.  The sun was still sleeping as were most homes I drove by this Christmas Eve morning.  The city streets were considerably quiet; most retailers still closed preparing for a busy day.

I turned down a dark, desolate road and by the glow of my headlights could see the rain bounce off the pavement.  Although the calendar read December 24 the temperature read 41 degrees.  We were going to get wet, but we wouldn't be cold.

Pat was waiting for me.  We wanted to get in a few more miles than the rest of the group and met a little earlier to get them in.  We started our watches and headed down the road.  It was still dark making the navigation around puddles a little more difficult.  Mid-sentence you would often hear us call out, "Puddle" and we'd side-step, jump or swim across the collected rain water.

We finished the miles near the coffee shop we were to meet the group.  Right on cue, there they stood waiting for the run to begin.  There were many of us today, all there to celebrate the blessings of each other this Christmas Eve.

The rain was still falling, yet we didn't seem to notice.  Like a big family gathering, we all talked at once and still heard the conversations had by others.  Running by the ocean, the grey of the rain hid the islands and blended with the ocean water.  A lone blue heron flew overhead.  

People were beginnig to emerge from their homes to get some fresh air before the holiday craziness would settle in.  A few groups of runners would pass us on the trail and we'd all exchange a friendly smile and a "Merry Christmas!".

Reaching the bench, we turned around and headed back to town.  We all admire an evergreen tree on the trail in which people have hung up ornaments; an unexpected dose of Christmas found amidst the trees on the trail.

Each of us wet from our run, we quickly change into clean shirts and coats and head into the coffee shop to celebrate the season with a cup of something hot.  Our group has taken over a corner of the shop, pulling in chairs to crowd a table.  These are my friends, my running family.   We have seen our worst, we have seen our best and we celebrate each of us.  In a season where we celebrate God's greatest Gift, I pause to celebrate the blessing He's given me in these people sitting here around a crowded table in a corner of the coffee shop.  I can't think of a greater way to start my Christmas Celebration.  Merry Christmas to you, my running family.

Sunday Morning

The sun shone bright in the cold December sky.  Temps sat at a brisk 35 degrees.  The coldness in the air hits my lungs hard as I walk out from the warmth of my home.  My 10 year old is climbing onto his bike.  While I run, my son Dane will ride next to me; giving us alone time together.  Today's run will be short in hopes the shins behave.

Normally a 5 a.m. runner, it feels good to be running in the daylight. A slight wind makes the temperature seem chillier than it is.  I should have worn gloves.  I look over at Dane who quietly wraps his coat around his hands to protect them from the cold.  He doesn't complain.  I am impressed with him.  He has a marathoner's determination.

Our neighborhood is quiet as the laziness of a Sunday morning is evident.  Frost makes the grass sparkle.  Dane and I are side by side as we make our way down the street lined with homes emitting curls of smoke from chimneys high on rooftops. 

Turning onto the main road, I pull ahead and Dane falls single file behind me.  It's a comfortable silence, neither of us saying much; both lost in thought.  I wonder what a 10 year old thinks about in quiet, reflective moments.   The sun shines on Mount Baker making the snow capped mountain beckon its skiers.  A tractor hums in the distance.

My left shin hurts reminding me of my 52.4 mile adventure the weekend before.  I wonder how long the recovery will be.  We turn toward home, Dane is in no hurry to race home, but rather perfectly content riding next to me.  Very little was said bewteen us as we shared the miles; just mom and son together.  

We turn onto our street and I break the silence, "Thank you Dane for coming with me on my run, I really enjoyed spending the time with you."

"Me too Mom.  Thanks."

Sometimes life's biggest moments are shared in silence on a quiet Sunday morning.