Birthday Serenity

God, give me grace to accept with serenity

the things that cannot be changed,

Grace... it's the gift that you don't have to earn. It's the thing you can never get on your own. Grace is the blessing that cannot be bought or sold, only freely given and received.
Serenity... the gift of peace with yourself. Calling a truce with your own flaws and faults. I acknowledge all that I am today, and embrace the person God created me to be... the person I choose to be.
So much of life is beyond my grasp and control. Circumstances. Situations. The choices other people make or don't make. In spite of all my best efforts, my health can still fail me. Neurons misfire. Chemicals flood or dry up. Rogue cells can grow into tumors, no matter how many green vegetables I eat.
I cannot change natural law... natural consequences. To embrace that, I must release my hold on this. Pick up one end of the stick, and you  must pick up the other. I can choose how much of myself I share with you, but I cannot change the way you react to what you see.

Courage to change the things

which should be changed,

Courage is the triumph of love over fear. It is the act of will that says, " I will try to do what I know is right, no matter the cost or consequence." Courage is not satisfied with half-measures and good intentions. It is action. It is force. Courage sees the potential for good in the world, and refuses to accept past failure as destiny.

and the Wisdom to distinguish

the one from the other.

The fool shakes his fist at the clouds,
While the sage is building a shelter for the village...

Living one day at a time,

Enjoying one moment at a time,

Ashamed of yesterday,
Afraid of tomorrow,
I will be left paralyzed...
blind to the magnificent possibilities of today.
I cannot redeem what has been lost, or control what is to come,
I can only accept the grace of Now,
The gift of God that is this moment
My moment
To fill with love or fear
With life, or living death.

Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,

And when the obstacles come, as they must
May I see them for what they are...
Life passing by
Water flowing along the sides of the ship of my life,
Events and circumstances.
Time and space,
The river of life whose channel I navigate
As each eddy and current presses me this way or that
As branches and garbage float in my path
Sand bars
Floods
Wind and ice
Each showing me more about the river and my own little part in it.
They are my teachers
Guiding me toward safe harbor

Taking, as Jesus did,

This sinful world as it is,

Not as I would have it,

"Thy will be done," he prayed. Not because he accepted the injustice and cruelty of this world, but because he knew that only open eyes can see what is and what is not. How many times have I looked at the world through the filter of my own desire?, my own interpretations? How often have I seen what I wanted to see, choosing to ignore whatever did not fit into the framework of my own imagination? To see the world as Jesus did is to look through God's eyes, not our own. It is to accept each creature as a being with integrity and flaws. It is to respect... to look again and again... always searching the heart, not the surface... always seeking the truth of what is, never settling for the smoky reality of what I believe might be.
And finally, seeing through God's eyes means honoring the choices that other people make. God has the power to bend any creature to his will, but chooses to allow us the freedom to act according to our own conscience instead. God grants us that dignity... we are free to be who we are. If I am to embrace the world as God does, I can do no less.

Trusting that You will make all things right,

If I surrender to Your will,

And it is that surrender, that submitting to things as they are that is the hardest part, isn't it? To accept that all things are as they should be feels weak somehow. Complacent. The sick are sick because that is God's will? The poor? The suffering? Is there nothing to be done?
There is a lot to be done. But change requires two things: serenity and courage. It requires the serenity to accept the truth of things as they are, and the courage to seek and obey God's guidance as you work to make the wrong things right.
So I surrender to God's will, I accept the things I cannot change, but I never surrender to the fear and death that keep me from serving my Creator and the creation of which I am a steward.

So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,

And supremely happy with You forever in the next.

And what is it to be happy? It is to live at peace with yourself, with creation, with your Creator. To be happy is to live in love with the world, and see it through the courageous eyes of one who is not afraid of the truth. To be happy in this word, or any world, is to embrace a spirit of gratitude for the lessons of the past, for the possibilities of the future, and for opportunity of the present.
I'm 53 years old today. And I am blessed. I have people who love me. I have a life that has come close to ending more times than I can count. I have lost most of my worldly wealth, but in that loss, I have become as rich as anyone. I continue to grow. I continue to learn. I continue to run. And I thank God for all that I have.
It's a hard lesson... but after half a century and then some... I believe that I'm learning to be happy.

Amen.

Peace,
Bob

#471: Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!

I just mailed a letter to 50 of the most inspiring people I know. Each of them contributed to a fundraiser I held this spring in conjunction with my attempt to complete the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati.  When I think of the song "Wind Beneath My Wings," these are the people I remember. Their encouragement and support help to keep this Fat Man Running.

July 13, 2013

Dear Friends,

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You! 

It has been three months now since the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati, and the conclusion of the fundraiser you helped to put over the top: Living Strong at the Y 2013. Our goal this year was an ambitious one: $7000. Thanks to your generosity, we smashed through that wall and raised $7551. That is beyond anything we expected or hoped for. You taught me a lesson. No goal is too high when we reach for it together.

Thank You for Supporting Our Survivors

Your dollars are already at work in the LIVESTRONG® at the YMCA program at the North Lexington Family YMCA, and every penny is going toward helping cancer survivors and their families to enjoy the benefits of fitness, healthy eating, and new friendships, many of which will last a lifetime. I am so grateful to you for making all that happen. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Thank You for Running with Me

My very ambitious personal goal was to beat my 06:21:53 time in the 2012 Pittsburgh Marathon by an hour. I didn't quite do that, but I was able to finish in 5:42:35... almost 40 minutes faster. I was proud of that effort, and the special "Buck a Minute" pledges that it raised. I know that 5:21:53 target is still out there waiting for me. Your support and kind thoughts will help me to get there before much longer.

Thank You for Sticking with Us

I'm already planning and dreaming for next year. After consulting with the folks at the LIVESTRONG foundation down in Austin, I've decided to change the name of our project from Living Strong at the Y to Run Bob, Run. I checked with them because I was concerned that the original name of our project was too similar to the trademark “LIVESTRONG,” and might be confusing to people. Together, we came up with a title that reflects the focus and personal nature of our work. If you would like to visit the new online site, the address is http://www.crowdrise.com/runbobrun2014/fundraiser/pennsy

I haven't settled on next year's event, but be sure it will be a fun one. I'm thrilled with the things we have accomplished together, and can't wait to see where the next few months will lead us.

On behalf of the YMCA, the LIVESTRONG foundation, and the survivors and families who will benefit from your gifts, thank you. LIVESTRONG at the YMCA is alive and growing thanks to you. I hope you have a safe and joyful remainder of your summer.

Peace,

Bob

Trayvon and George

Two frightened men met on the street that night.
Each alert
To a threat
That wasn't there.
One wanted a safe neighborhood.
The other wanted a snack.
Two innocent men
Taught to be afraid

Ships that should have passed in the night
Set on a collision course by
Faulty guidance,
Each saw only the shadow of a hull
Not the passenger on board.

Familiar silhouette in an unfamiliar place,
The swing of the hips
The roll of the shoulders
Hands full
Head covered
Everything he knew about strangers told him
The boy was Trouble.

Raised on tales of lynch mobs
And tow chains
Fire hoses and burning crosses
He heard the footsteps
And knew what they meant.
Fight or run. Live or die.
No lynchings tonight.
Not this time.

Crouching in the dark
Stalking the stalker
Did he hear his own frightened young heart,
Or just the angry blood roaring in his ears?

Stepping carefully
His target lost,
Was there a moment when he wished
He had listened to warnings to wait?

And as they rolled on the ground
One driven by outrage
The other over-matched and in pain,
Did their eyes ever meet?
Did they ever get the chance to see
How very afraid the other man was
On that dark, dirty street?

Did time stop?
After the explosion?
As one lay bleeding into the other?
Before  the heart squeezed into silence?
Did they learn the truth, even then?
As one light went out?
And the other slipped into shadow forever?

Two frightened men met on the street that night.
Each alert
To a threat
That wasn't there.
Terrified
By their own imaginations.
Two innocent men
Taught to be afraid.

May God have mercy
On their teachers' souls.

What is a Personal Trainer?: Part Two

In our last installment, we looked as some of the roles that a personal trainer plays: Role Model, Cheer Leader, Disciplinarian, Teacher, Student. Today I'll wrap up this short series with four other important hats that a trainer has to wear, along with the qualities I hope to bring to my own work as a trainer.

Be a Counselor. This is a touchy one. A personal trainer has to remember what they call the "Scope of Practice." There are boundaries beyond which a professional must not go. A good trainer can assess physical issues, and give advice, but never forgets that a trainer is not a physician or a nutritionist or a psychologist. We aren't social workers, and we aren't even close friends. We are people clients pay to help them improve their own wellness. To the extent that my advice can help you to become stronger, more fit, and more able to meet your own physical goals, I can be your counselor. When you enter realms like personal finance, crumbling relationships, and mental health, a personal trainer should be able to keep their advice to themselves.

Be an Observer. Even more important that the things a trainer says are the things a trainer hears and sees. A good trainer is always watching, always listening, always paying attention and giving feedback. Spy on them a little. When they are with a client, are they connected for each repetition and movement, or are they staring at their watch, their clipboard, their phone, or the shapely rear end of someone on an elliptical trainer across the room? A trainer who can't show up and stay with you isn't worth your money. When I am training a client, nothing can be more important than their face, their form, their breathing... their safety and success. The best trainers are always scanning. They notice things that your partner might miss. The direction of your foot. The bend in your knees. The angle of your chin. They also see changes and improvements. A good trainer may tell you a lot of things you didn't know about exercise, but they'll also tell you a lot of things about yourself that you couldn't have seen from the inside looking out.

Be a Producer. It's easy to forget, because the time we spend is often fun, but my relationship with my clients is a business relationship. They are paying me for a product - their own improved wellness - and they expect me to deliver. The data matters. Are you getting stronger? faster? more flexible? Is your endurance improving? Do your clothes fit you better? A good trainer always knows your goals, and helps you to work toward them. Initial assessments, and periodic follow-ups should help you to keep track of your own progress. Trainers are accountable to the business for the revenue their clients generates, but they're also accountable to their clients. For sure, there is only so much a trainer can do to help you reduce your waist or increase your bench press - most of your progress depends on your own behavior - but if you know you're sticking with the program and you're not seeing the growth you expect, it may be time for a talk. Remember, you're the client here. You're not just the customer, you're also the employer. You have a right to expect results or to know why you aren't getting them. Good trainers care about producing those results.

Be an Inspiration. This last role is a little hard to put your finger on. In many ways it's a matter of personal style. Each trainer finds their own way to make you want to be better. One might have such a commanding presence that you want to be like them. Another might fill you with awe and respect so you want to earn their high regard. My own favorite trainers have a way of making be believe in myself. They seem to see me doing things before I know I can do them. Yes, I want to please them, but they make me want to please myself, too. It's like that song about "You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings." Great Trainers know how to help you soar higher than you knew you could.

I started this two-part series as a way for potential clients to know what to look for when shopping for a trainer. It's turned into a kind of a manifesto about the kind of trainer I hope to be. Still, I hope you find it useful as you make your own decisions about who you want to pay to help guide you toward your own wellness goals.

Till next time: Sleep well. Eat clean. Lift heavy. Run hard.

Peace,
Bob

Learning to Be... Alone

Lonely. In many ways, it's the most frightening word in the English language. Alone with my troubles. Alone with my thoughts. Just me and the man in the mirror. He hasn't always been my favorite companion.

We talk a lot about self-esteem in this world. Some people consider this a very bad sign: an indication of a people who are no longer interested in anything but themselves. Yet, the more we do to protect our self-esteem, the less comfortable we seem to become with whoever it is that we are. For many, and often for me, the prospect of sitting quietly with no music, no video, no book to read, no screen to lose myself into is downright terrifying. We say, "I'm bored," but I wonder if what we really mean is "I'm scared."

Scared of "lonely." Scared of the empty space that surrounds us. Will I be able to fill it? What if I can't?

I slept late this morning. 8:00 when I opened my eyes to see the sunshine and blue sky through my blinds. "What will I do with this beautiful day," I thought, breathing the cool morning air. "I need a playmate."

And now that I've showered and had my coffee and peanut butter toast, I wonder, "Why?" Why not a beautiful day with myself? Why is my first impulse to look for another? What do I want from them?

As you might guess, my shrink and I have spent more than a little time on these questions. Reflecting back on my life, I discover that I've been looking for something from other people for as long as I can remember. The little boy who sang for the grown-ups in church. The Boy Scout racing toward the Eagle badge his dad wanted for him, then suddenly turning away from that goal for the love of a pretty girl. The would-be preacher who heard his first applause and knew that the church would never be able to compete with a standing ovation in a darkened theatre. Lovers pursued, sometimes caught, always lost. Careers embraced and discarded.  What was I looking for?

And now, I am alone. No, not really alone. I have friends who love me. Mom, who will stick by me no matter what. Colleagues who respect me. A reasonably good reputation in my community. I have a safe place to live, a working vehicle, and food in the pantry. I am richer in people and things than most of the humans on the planet. And yet, I find an empty place inside me where Bob should be.

I have a theory: a question, really. It's a puzzle I've never taken the time to solve, or even really consider because I have always sought out someone else who would do it for me. I think I have spent my life looking for someone to tell me who I am.

Who am I? Absurd. 53 years old and trying to find myself. It feels like a task I should have taken care of when I was 17. Now here I am, well past mid-life crisis time, and I don't have anyone telling me the answer. No wife. No mentor. No audience. I have friends, some dear old friends, but these days, they seem as curious as I am. It's as if we're all waiting to find out who I'll turn out to be.

I want to run home. Run to my mother. Run to Martha. Run to rehearsal or the gym or church and beg someone to give me the answer. Find a friend. Find a lover. But then, there is another part of me that knows where that strategy has led me. I don't think I can ask anyone to tell me who Bob is any more.

I dream of a day when I can tell the world who I am. When I can tell myself, rather. The world will make up its own mind. People hear the story they think is true. My story has always come from the people who tell me what I wish were true. This is hard to put into words. It has to be hard for a reader to follow.

I guess I'm wondering if my Self is someone I need to discover, or someone I need to choose. Michelangelo was said to be able to see a figure in a block of marble. He just chipped away everything that wasn't the statue he saw. When I've chipped away everything that isn't Bob, will I find an empty space that needs to be filled, or will I find something I've been creating for years without realizing it?

I have no idea what's inside the marble of my life. But I guess it's time to start tapping away at the things I am not. And this is one project I'm going to have to do alone.

I'm not sure I can afford to get this wrong many more times...

Peace,
Bob

What is a Personal Trainer?: Part One

Assisting Coach Chelsea at the Y

A good personal trainer plays a lot of roles. Their job isn't to get you in shape, it's to point you in the right direction. I tell my clients, "I can get you to 5. Getting to 10 is your job." That doesn't let me off the hook, though. Here are some of the things I think a Personal Trainer needs to do to be good at their job: things I strive to include in my own work.

Be a Role Model: I don't think a trainer needs to look like Arnold or Jillian, but their appearance and conduct should reflect a commitment to wellness. I wouldn't reject a trainer out of hand because they have a big butt or a pooched belly, but seeing them in the break room with large fries and a coke might get my attention. Physical, mental, and spiritual health go hand in hand. A good trainer is working for balance in their own life, even as they are coaching clients to strengthen themselves.

Be a Cheer Leader: When I told my friend that I would be leading a group exercise class, she asked, "Are you going to have to chirp 'GOOD JOB!' every three minutes?" What I've found is that sometimes I have to do it even more often. When my trainer encourages me like this, it isn't to convince me, or even to praise me, really. It's to inject positive energy into my workout. Four push-ups may not be an earth-shattering performance, but that little boost could be the difference between giving up and pressing for five. The truth is, you deserve praise for showing up. That may not be the most strenuous part of your workout, but getting off the couch and into the gym is surely the most important part. Jack Welch, the former CEO of General Electric once said that Leadership is knowing when to kiss and when to kick. I've found that a kiss is usually a lot more encouraging.

Be a Disciplinarian: Having said that, there are also times when a boot to the butt is what you need to get you over the wall. Fighting for your life, (and isn't that what we're all really doing?) is a battle between pride and shame, love and fear. My trainer has probably said, "You're doing great!' to me a hundred times, but the day I'll never forget was during a brutal set of Burpees in the sun when I fell to the hot asphalt, panting on my knees and she shouted, "Don't you give up on me, Bob!" She had earned my trust. We were a team. I would have died out there rather than not finish that last rep. Not because I was afraid of what she would do if I disappointed her, but because I was afraid of what it would feel like to know that I could have gone on, but didn't.

Be a Teacher: Ultimately, a trainer's job is to make themselves obsolete. Just as you outgrew your third grade math teacher or your freshman writing professor, you may very well outgrow your need for your trainer one day. That might mean moving on to a different coach. Or it could mean taking the things you've learned and designing your own programs. A trainer should always be helping clients to increase their knowledge, not just the size of their biceps. That could mean a quick cue on how to perform a squat more safely, or it could be a 10 minute conversation on how to get to sleep at the end of a stressful day. A trainer who does nothing more than carry a clip board and count reps is not worth your money.

Be a Student: Like any good teacher, a personal trainer must first be a student. The good ones are always reading, listening, watching videos, studying other trainers. Exercise science is growing every day, and knowing what works and what doesn't; what's an effective mode of exercise and what's this year's latest fad is important. Every professional certification requires continuing education. If your trainer is certified, that suggests to you that they've made a commitment to learning and staying current on the state of their art. A new client has the right to ask about their trainer's education AND experience. I want to know that the person teaching me to use combat ropes has spent some time at the end of a pair of them, not just watched somebody else use them on YouTube.

A trainer plays a lot of other roles: Counselor, Listener, Producer, Inspiration. We'll take a look at them in our next installment. Till then,

Sleep well. Eat clean. Lift heavy. Run hard.

Peace,
Bob

#rainydaythoughts

Something is lost the first time a relationship requires forgiveness... something you can never get back again.

It is harder to lose a true friend than to lose a lover... a true friend is so much more rare.

A little melancholy never hurt anybody.

Isn't it surprising: that disappointed feeling you get when you look out the window and realize that the rain has stopped?

There are two true things in the universe, and three that never fail:
The road to Hell really is paved with good intentions;
No good deed ever does go unpunished;
A fool and his money were never really that close to begin with.

Where do you get the nerve to say what Jesus meant when you don't have the guts to do what Jesus did?

There are way too many cords and cables in my house... that's an important metaphor for something, but I have to admit it eludes me at the moment.

God knows us for who we really are... maybe that's why we can't look Him in the eye.

Pulling up to someone's house and honking your horn is almost never the best way to call them to the door.

There is no substitute for knowing why you get up in the morning, what you really want from love, or how to make a really good omelette.

I have always preferred romance over reason... romance just seems better designed somehow...

There is nothing quite as liberating as the moment you stop trying to talk yourself into doing something.

Sometimes I am filled with shame and the terribly damaging things I have said and done while positive I was right.

I would trade it all if I could be a rock'n'roll star.

Pity the ones who have let life beat the foolishness out of them.

Blessed are the dreamers, for they shall break their hearts against the universe... and God's love will flow out around their feet.

I would rather fail in love than prosper in fear.

Peace,
Bob

#470: Race Report, (sort of): 2013 Bluegrass 10,000

Ten...

Thousand...

Meters.

Even after half a dozen marathons and half marathons, the 10K... this 10K has a special place in my heart.

I don't remember the year, but I remember the night. It was lifetimes ago. Before cancer and the mental hospital and getting fired and my marriage coming apart. It was a summer evening and life was full of possibilities and I was making a list. It was like the list Gatsby's dad shows to Tom at the end of the novel. I still remember some of the items. "Practice cursive writing." "Get out of debt." "Take Martha to Ireland." And the last one was something special, something impossible, for no one's benefit but mine: "Run the Bluegrass 10,000."

I wasn't a runner at the time. I wasn't doing anything physical at all, if I remember. But something - I would say it was God's inspiration - prompted me to stick that item on the end of my list of life goals. Looking back, I'm convinced it was divine inspiration, because that thought planted the seed that sprouted when I was lying on my sick bed, looking for a reason to hang on to life. "I have to live. I haven't run that race, yet." And so the dreams began and the running soon followed.

2011 Bluegrass 10,000

My first BG 10K was the last race I ran before joining the Y. There were no coaches, no trainers, no YMCA logos... just my own will and Martha's faith in my ability to do the impossible. I wore the shirt that Mum bought me on my 50th birthday. She paid full price at Dick's because I said I wanted a LIVESTRONG shirt, and I was almost finished with treatment and there was no telling how much longer I was going to live so a $30 tee-shirt wasn't so extravagant as it might have been another year. Martha took this picture with her phone, from a balcony high above Main Street as I shuffled along the last mile of the race.

I remember feeling amazement as I crossed the finish line. It all sort of hit me at once... the miracle I had gone through. Since my diagnosis, I had four members of my family and friends still fighting cancer for their lives. Soon, they would all be gone, but three lived to see me finish that race. They were all proud of me. They still are, I hope.

2012: A familiar uniform makes
it's Lexington debut.

My second time down Main Street was very different than the first. 2011 had been a cool, overcast morning, perfect for running. July 4, 2012 lived up to its name: it was a firecracker of a morning. I didn't record the temperature in my log, but I know that I didn't skip any water stations that day. Temps and humidity both soared and battered me, especially out on the hills of Richmond Road. After the turnaround, I was running on fumes. My second half was much slower than the first, and I finished strong, but spent. It was fast enough; faster than I'd ever run 10K before; but it didn't feel like a quality effort. I had let myself get pulled along by faster runners early and spent all my endurance coins too soon. I didn't want to make that mistake again today.

2013: You must admit,
I'm taking better pictures...

This morning, I was awake at 3:00 AM, too excited to sleep. You would have thought I was getting ready for the state championships and not a community holiday race. I made my standard race day breakfast: jelly toast and coffee. Chatted with the insomniac club on Facebook. Joked with other runners as they woke up to predictions of thunderstorms at race time. Pinned my bib on and put the timing chip on my shoe. Climbed the walls. When I couldn't stand the wait any longer, and the sky had started it's transition from black to steely gray, I tucked my spare key into the waistband pocket of my running shorts and headed out the door.

There wasn't a lot of traffic on Broadway as I began the 2 mile jog toward town. I took it slow, working out the kinks. Taking stock. Feet? Feeling good. Ankles and calves? Strong and relaxed. Coach Carrie had seen to that. Quads? A little twinge just above the right knee. Just early morning bugs to work out, I hope. Go easy up to the crest of the hill and see how it feels on the flat. There, that's better. Hips? No sweat. Tuesday's ache must have been from the stride change on the treadmill. I haven't run inside since the weather turned to spring and shortening up for the 'mill probably caused that little tweak. My posture is strong. Arms feel light and powerful. Chest high. Head back. Eyes up. Yeah, I'm ready for this.

Police officers and volunteers were setting up barricades as I came into town. We exchanged cheerful  "Good Mornings" and I thanked them for coming out on their holiday. I turned the corner toward the starting line and was struck, as I always am, but the beauty of the gathering tribes of runners. Gorgeous, toned bodies. Wide bottoms and rolling bellies. Golden tans. Pale, aged skin. Pre-teens and grand masters all jogged loosely back and forth along Main Street. We were all early and it was fixing to dump rain on us and there was no place on earth we would rather be.

2013: Strider Nation reporting for duty

I found the Striders and exchanged fist bumps and greetings. Runners bump fists. It isn't a pose, it's a sign of respect and a way to make contact without exchanging whatever fluids and ointments and microbes and whatever else is on the hands of the dozens of people you greet at a race. We laughed at the weather, and Chris joked that she wanted a pair of glasses with windshield wipers on them. Someone suggested that my sunglasses were an admirable show of optimism. Finally we gathered on the steps at Thoroughbred Park and posed for our annual group shot.

John's Striders is a running group affiliated with John's Run/Walk shop here in Lexington. John's is mecca for running in our town, and the Striders were created to help new runners find their way into the sport. They are an amazingly joyful group of people. Runners with decades of experience willingly share their wisdom and encouragement with newbies. There has never been a time I've run with them that I didn't come away inspired and a smarter runner. I'm proud to be one of them.

2013: In the Zone on the way to a new PR

The race was just super. I had mixed a special 10K playlist on my iPod to keep both my spirits and my cadence from lagging. The support from spectators was great. People with cowbells shouted encouragement, and several times I heard my name from friends and fellow runners. The storm never materialized, but a light drizzle kept me cool through the race and I was able to pass several of the early water stations by. I don't usually run with headphones, but today I did and I found that the music helped me to stay focused. My mind didn't wander like it does on a long training run. I probably missed a few things along the way, and I don't think I'd make a habit of running with earbuds, especially in a  longer race, but today, I was glad I did. The hills that had caused me such grief last year were little more than gentle rollers today. Mountain miles training with the Striders had seen to that. When I hit the half-way point, I was right on target with my pace, and decided to press the gas pedal a little to see what I could do. My body responded better than I could have imagined, finishing the second half of the race two minutes faster than the first, and running the last mile in 9:34: as fast as I've ever run a mile in a race. My goal had been to finish in 66 minutes. I finished in 1:04:18, a new PR by almost 4 full minutes. And what was playing in my aging ears as I crossed the finish line? Freebird, of course!

I jogged/walked home in the rain, alone. I usually like to meet friends for brunch or coffee after this race, but it's kind of a special year for me. I'm learning a lot about being alone these days. I expected to be a little sad about not having anyone to hug or share my post-race euphoria with, but I wasn't sad at all. I felt... dare I say it... proud. Grateful to God for giving me a chance to run. Grateful to all the people I've known and lost this year and the inspiration they will always give me. Grateful for the friends who are sticking with me, and the new friends I haven't met yet.

And yes, dammit. I'm proud that I made the choice to accept all those gifts and turn them into a loving celebration of life. I may never break any records other than my own PRs, and I may never win anything other than participant shirts and finisher's medals, but crossing that finish line, you feel like a champion. And in a way, I guess we all are.

Everybody in a race has a thousand reasons not to be there. Excuses. Rationalizations. Justifications. Anxieties. Nobody with any sense puts on skimpy clothes on a rainy morning and runs 6 miles in a race they can't win. And in spite of all that, we run. We run together. We run alone. We run. And by running, we celebrate who we are... who we can become... and we testify to the power of will and faith. We all succeed because we choose to run and we believe that no matter how crazy it looks to the rest of the world, it is worth it.

When people see us running by the side of the road, they see all kinds of things. Fanatics. Neurotics. Traffic hazards. But once in a while, I hope they see the miracle. In a world full of death and discouragement, we are alive and running. We are not stronger. We simply choose to run. We choose to live. I hope that now and then, when people see a runner, they realize that they too can choose life. There are miracles waiting for each of us.

Peace,
Pennsy