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I did not write the essay below but only wish I had. When I read it, it was as if the author had read not only my mind but my heart. The Woods is a sacred, special place for my for many reasons. Someday I will be able to articulate those reasons as well as Dave Cox.

“They look like old-fashioned pot metal with appropriate signs of age: scrapes, dents and paint blemishes. Those gates at the entrance of Saint Mary-of-the-Woods are signs of protection, along with a sense of strength and security.

If you look around, there’s nothing unusually striking about the surroundings: aged brick walls at the gateway, granite signs identifying the Sisters of Providence and Saint Mary-of-the-Woods College as permanent dwellers. Age-old trees form a canopy along the main drive. A small bungalow stands as sentry off to one side.
But, just cross that threshold. Move through those gates. Something happens. Some explain it as a pinch of magic dust that flutters down to greet visitors, especially first-timers. Where does it come from? What is it? How does it change you?
That special feeling stays with you. You know you are in a special place: physically, emotionally and spiritually. You can sense the peace. You are in awe of the natural beauty. You embrace the spirituality. You feel like you are home.
“For those who have never visited Saint Mary’s, I say you need to drive through those gates and no words need to be spoken, for instantly you feel the presence of specialness that will always remain tucked away in your heart,” said Jeanne Stanbaugh, assistant executive director of the Terre Haute Convention and Visitors Bureau, who has a significant role in promoting the Woods as a destination for visitors.
“Sixteen years ago, I first entered the gates at Saint Mary-of-the-Woods. To this day, each time I return and re-enter the gates, I am totally at peace. It’s like coming home,” she said.
Maybe it’s not magic dust at all. Maybe it’s your first blessing as you step onto holy ground.”

Ask me why I coach Girls on the Run and I will give you many reasons. I think it is selfish as I get more than I give most days but there are days that stun and amaze even me. There are days that bring me to my knees thanking God for bringing me to this program at this time in my life.

Once upon a time there were 4 runner girls. They decided to run a Half Marathon on the other side of the Cheddar Curtain in Kenosha. 2 had trained and trained well for this adventure. The other 2 …not so much. Ok, not really at all…at least not in any serious ‘follow a training plan and run consistently” kind of way.

The adventure began at 5am as the TMI truck pulled out and headed north. As we drove, we were treated to the most beautiful, colorful sunrise. It was just magnificent. The drive was easy and plans for the day were discussed…as well as other topics…but what is talked about in the TMI truck, stays in the TMI truck.

We arrived, parked and prepped. All of us love this race as it is easy to get to, parking is close and free, the bathrooms plentiful, the scenery stunning, and there is Great beer at the end! After we had made the final choices as to what to wear and what to carry, we headed to the start only to find many of our friends from running group. We all started together but soon my pal, Shorty, (names have been changed to protect the innocent) and I were on our own. We had decided on doing a run/walk as the goal was just to finish. We started fast and strong. This was going to be a good day.

About Mile 2 one of our pals running the full marathon came up on us and we chatted a bit. I stopped to take a photo of the lake…it was too pretty.

It was about mile 3 and my playlist was on shuffle as Roma Downey’s , An Irish Blessing, began to play as we passed a beautiful old cemetery then the race took on new meaning. There was a group of spectators lining the course and one was holding a sign that said, “Run Strong”. It was the sign that got my attention but what struck me was the young woman holding it and cheering. She was bald. I ran over to her and hugged her tight. As I hugged her she said, “ you can do this ….because I can’t…” “YES! You can I replied as I took off running…tears streaming down my face. I caught up to Shorty and she was crying too. We both decided that there was going to be no bitchin’. No moaning. No whining. We would finish the race REGARDLESS!

We ran though the quaint downtown area of Kenosha to the cheers of the spectators and headed out towards the Lake and Carthage College. This is a tough part of the course as the spectators thin out to almost nothing, the pavement is pitted and uneven, and the breeze off the Lake pushes me back just enough to make moving forward a tad more challenging. Oh…did I mention that this is also the hillier part of the course? This is also the most gorgeous part of the course as far as scenery. The long stretches along the Lake remind me of one of the reasons I run. I mean, would I have seen the lighthouse and coastline otherwise? Probably not. As we came up on the turn around, we saw our friends, Speedy and Cheesy. They were running strong and looking to PR. It was good to see them, as well as other runners we knew.

About mile 8 I was starting to feel the burn. The wall was coming…I could see it and feel it. I was doing all that I could to push it off. Shorty had to use the bathroom after mile 9 so I told her I would just walk and she could catch up….well just the thought of the bathroom made me have to go and when I realized all the stalls were full, I went to the Men’s side. Minutes later we were on our way to the last leg…the last 3 miles.

As we headed back into the downtown area of Kenosha, the spectators were back, as was the polka band. We are in Wisconsin, after all and I mean really…where else are you going to find a canning and pie shop on the main street?! I rounded a corner and there it was…the Wall. I hit it hard and it was hard to breathe. I had slowed down and Shorty had started to speed up. I didn’t have to tell her to head on and run her own pace..she was doing that on her own leaving me to find a way past the Wall.

I mustered the energy to finish…I had come this far….quitting or giving up was not an option. I caught up to Shorty and we ran a bit together and then off she went. As I arrived at the turn around, a friend running the full marathon passed. We hugged for a minute and then I sent him on ahead for another 13.1 miles. I turned and headed towards the last mile. Now I was walking and running in equal parts and not very fast but I was still moving forward.

Shorty and I rounded the last corner and she took off. We were almost there…the finish. I ran strong the last .3 and was speeding up as I caught sight of the finish line. I crossed the finish line and got my medal from a wonderful young man who said, “Awesome job, tutu Lady!” and met Shorty for water and CHEESE!

We met up with Cheesy and Speedy only to find out that Cheesy did hit her PR! We had a yummy beer (I have to find out what they were serving because it was AWESOME!) and a brat and headed to the car…to head to the Brat Stop.

We devoured all things grilled and fried washing it all down with sudsy, delicious beer. You have not lived until you have eaten fried cheese curds at the Brat Stop! We bought some beer and cheese before starting the journey home. We laughed and told more stories and talked the whole way home. It was just what I needed today…what I needed all week.

I was surprised to arrive home to a clean house. My girls had spent the morning cleaning! YEA! A walk with the dogs and a hot shower made the morning complete. I still wonder about the woman at mile 3. I would love to thank her for empowering my run today. I would love to repay the favor and encourage her on her journey. She will be in my thoughts and prayers……What a good day….

 

 

Saturday I woke up and knew I needed a long run. I have a Half marathon coming up in a week and am seriously undertrained. I am so very unprepared…I have never been this ‘not ready’ EVER. I always have a plan and follow it…not always as closely as I would like but close enough to feel prepared. Not this time. I have had zero motivation. The weather has been cold and icky. The new puppy needs attention. Life is getting in my way all over the place. I can think of every excuse in the book and will pay for it soon.

So I decided not to waste a beautiful morning….but it was no easy task. I found excuse after excuse not to leave the house…laundry, puppy, dishes, puppy, change clothes, puppy, charge ipod, puppy…the list when on and on. Finally my son said, “Mom when are you leaving?” I knew it was time. I strapped on a water belt and my ‘new to me’ Garmin and headed out the door determined to run at least 5 miles. It was a perfect morning. The weather was great but I was nervous. Had I dressed properly? Did I remember Gu? Did I apply enough Glide? Every doubt crept in between the earbuds and into my brain.

I started slow and knew I was not going to get much faster….this was not a run about speed. It was about putting one foot in front of the other for 5 miles. I was undecided as to which way to run…do I run out to the path and follow that or do a loop in the neighborhood? Decisions….

I let my feet decide and soon I was headed on a loop I had not run since last summer winding through my neighborhood streets. As a moved forward my legs started to loosen up and so did my mind.

Soon it was time to turn towards home and head further out….I chose to continue on. The great thing about this loop is that I can head home anytime…but I didn’t.

The intoxicating smells of spring filled the air …the hyacinth, laundry, and BACON! The sun was rising higher in the sky and so were my spirits. I kept trudging along…I would love to say there was a spring in my step as well as the air…but that was not the case. I am old and under trained. I am slow. It is all ok…I am at peace with it all.

As a jogged past 2 ladies out for a walk I heard one of them say, “oh to be young again and able to run…” I was reminded that I am not THAT old and I can still run…no matter how slow.

I headed up the last block towards my house dog tired and ready to be done after having run 10 miles. It was not easy nor fast. This run was the run I had waited all winter for…spring.

This morning I was up at 3 courtesy of some hungry puppies. I tried to go back to sleep but found it impossible my mind was racing so rather than fight it I gave in. I got up and dressed and headed out the door for a run. The cold, dark morning air hit me smack in the face like a strong wake up call. I had decided to run alone and when I run alone in the dark I do not listen to music. The sound of the birds chirping was my music.

I ran until my head cleared a bit, my heart was reminded of why I love to run and the sun began to rise. The sense of being alone on a run but part of a larger tribe filled my soul.

I thought about all that had taken place in the last 24 hours. My good wishes and good luck posts to friends running Boston. My computer checks of finish times. My first knowledge of an explosion at the finish line. The frantic checks to see if friends were ok and all that followed. It brought me back to other, similar, events. Days that changed not only me but our country.

Last night after dinner the conversation turned to the events of the day. My 10 year old son asked, “Mom, are you still going to run the marathon this year?”

I hesitated, not out of fear, but uncertainty of how he would respond. I must have hesitated for a moment too long as he then said, “I think you should. And I want to go watch you….”
“Really? You think I should? You are not afraid?”

“Nope. Bad things happen everywhere. If we stop doing fun stuff then the bad guys win. Daddy doesn’t let the bad guys win, so why should we?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Some guy on TV but he is right. We can’t let the bad guys win.”

The subject changed as the Hawks game came on but I was left with a feeling of great pride. I have a wise son.

He got me to thinking. We can’t let the bad guys win.

I am a runner. I am a racer. I am part of a tribe of dedicated, caring, generous people like no other. Runners are a unique and special breed.

As runners we know the there is no “phoning it in”. We must do the work. Not every run is fun nor great. Lots of runs suck. But it is those hard, craptastic, “suck it up buttercup” runs that allow us to grow, develop and appreciate the great runs. We know that without the bad days, we could not enjoy the good days. We know that each run makes us stronger and ready for the next challenge. We know that each footfall and every mile lead us closer to the finish line and make us more appreciative of the the medals.

I will never qualify for Boston. It is not even a pipe dream for me. I am slower that a herd of turtles going uphill in a snowstorm. I am in awe of those that are fast enough to toe that blue and yellow line. I live vicariously though them. I relish in their triumphs. I hope to one day volunteer for that race and cheer those speed demons. To those that did finish…Wow! Impressive! To those that trained and did not get to cross that finish line…you are alive to run another race. That is a victory sweeter than any finish line or medal. The events in Boston will make us better, stronger runners and racers. We will all run with renewed purpose.

Running and racing may never be the same. As a race organizer I wonder how this will change our sport. As a coach of Girts on the Run I wonder if this will make parents more hesitant to allow girls to participate in this life changing program. As a spectator, I wonder how this will change how I watch racers and how people watch me. As a runner I wonder how this will change the races I run.

As I showered and dressed, I put on my trusty Girls on the Run shirt and first hard earned Chicago Marathon jacket. I will wear both proudly to honor those runners and spectators who were injured or lost their lives and as a sign that I am a member of a very special tribe. I know that I will spend the day answering questions from my students and others that know I run as to how I feel about the events in Boston. I will answer with my prayer of the day…Always remember, Never forget and Don’t let the Bad Guys win.
Forward is a pace. Peace.