Thursday, August 28, 2014
The runner I claim not to be, with such relentless force, emerged this morning. It jumped out of bed with the alarm. It sang in my throat "It's stupid o'clock!!!! get up get up or you'll miss it!!!'
Of course, it forgot I couldn't exactly jump. Yet. Of course, it forgot that recovery is part of being a runner too. It forgot to listen yesterday when I promised we would try and run Friday. Of course, like a kid on Christmas eve, it forgot to care what I thought, how I felt, or my opinion of any of it. It took off, down the stairs (again forgetting I still need a railing) and barrelled into the living room looking for gifts to unwrap... or perhaps relatively clean running shoes.
How do you conquer 20 days and 900kms of running?
To my guides, please hear me.....
Thank you for making every step possible. Thank you for making the invisible, visible. Thank you for tolerating my off key rendition of the first line of every 80's song you've ever heard. And for not telling anyone I fart a lot when I run. Or that at 9:00am every day I seemed doomed to pee on my shoes incapable of holding a proper supportive pee squat. Thank you for your laughter, your smiles, your endearing kindness, and your jerkiness. Thank you for making me run. It is my firm belief that running 100 miles is one thing, and staying attentive and articulate about every potential obstacle for 50 km or 14 hours, is entirely a different thing. Thank you. You Are Amazing. Thank you for telling people we ran, when mostly we hobbled, shuffled and crawled. Thank you for making sure I stayed awake, got through each day, and went to bed on time.
To my crew, please listen.....
Without you Don, I would never ever have made it 10km along the Bruce Trail. I call him the Baconator. He is the king of getting the job done. Always prepared. Always on time. Always anticipating my mood, my cravings, my needs. He is the most caring and forgiving person I have ever met. I love him to pieces. Forever. I'm sad to not see him every day. I'm thankful I will see him again at his faithful post at aid station two in Haliburton Forest.
To everyone else who came out for a few minutes, a few hours, a few days. To those who brought hugs and bacon and salt and coffee and donuts. To those who knew that just seeing a person from outside the bubble.... Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
To my online community....
You are wonderful. Everyday I would get messages and texts and emails sending support. You picked me up when I was at my lowest. Your hope and belief carried me through some of the darkest times I have ever, ever seen. Thank you for believing in me, for believing in this goal. I got up each day, looked in the mirror and asked myself "why am I here?". Never once did that answer fail me. I always knew it was for purpose, it was to see it through, send out the message, which was always greater than me or my aches and pains.
To my family.... (those tied by DNA and those who adopted me... and those I bullied into being members)
Never, ever forget how much I love you all. Thank you for supporting the craziest things I've done. Thank you for watching me struggle and knowing you might not be able to make it go away, but never walking away. Thank you for tolerance, for patience, for kindness, for guidance, and for allowing me the freedom to fail. And mostly for loving me for no apparent reason. Even when I smell.
To the run in us all...
I may greet you a little slowly, tentatively, carefully over the next few weeks... so that neither of us get hurt. So that neither of us say something we will regret. Please know I respect you and all you have given me. I love the way you make me crave movement in my legs, in my soul. I love the way you crank my heart into overdrive without much warning. I love your impatience, your relentless temptation, your exquisite flirtations. I love your quirky giving tan lines, your aromatherapy, your senseless disregard for socially appropriate behaviour. I love your get up and go, your forgiving walks, your crawling ups and sliding downs. I love your fifteen second trail dance parties. I love your tree swinging, mud slinging, puddle jumping, falling in love with yourself again and again moments. I love that I can share you, endlessly, without falling victim to jealousy and envy. I adore that I find you when I'm tiptoes happy and buried in darkest sad. With excitement I find you on top of the highest escarpments and in the lowest valleys. You are under waterfalls, hidden in the dead pine forests, strung along the rivers edge and among the rock face ruins of yesteryear. I love you before, after and during 900kms. I loved you before we met. I love you after you've left.