I park the car and get to the race start. I’m not in a good mood, frankly wondering if I’ll be able to finish. I considered opting out for the past few days yet here I am. I’m not prepared enough for this you see. The loud music and the people trying to warm up excitedly around me does nothing to uplift my mood. And it is cold. Then race time nears and it is time for the national anthem, I find myself smiling at ‘land of the free’ part, agreeing, but then I wonder if any of us are truly free; I mean all of us are slaves to one thing or another, but then it is all relative, and here we are free to run or not this morning.
Then the race starts. I’ve done this race before, and adrenalin generally gives me momentum at the start. Not this time. I am just there, running, among very enthusiastic people, and I don’t know why I’m here. But then I remember. I turn 50 in just a few days and I’m here to mark that milestone. We make it into the trail part after a few miles, the sun is on my face, there is also mist and some mud, it is a moody, enchanting landscape, and it feels good to be there so early in the morning running with a bunch of people I don’t know. We are slow. I still wonder if I’ll be able to finish it. But of course I know I’ll keep on going at this point. We stop to jump over water puddles, and where mud is so wet it isn’t safe to run, we slow down altogether. We even have to form lines at some point because only one person can pass at a time. It feels good to be there in the mud. This is where yoga comes to play, my balance has improved over the months I’ve been practicing, I notice I can skip over the rocks without falling into water with ease.
Then I find a pace through mid point. Nature is so glorious after all the rain, all shades of green sprinkled with orange, purple, yellow and red. It is breathtaking. I look at the oak trees and wonder why we go to museums at all when we have these living sculptures all around us changing everyday, sparkling with infinite beauty. Then I look at the humans around me. They too look like pieces of art, ever so different, reflecting all kinds of emotions and personalities with their posture, pace, interaction with each other while I’m lost in my head. Then I start thinking about turning 50 and decide it is a good time to remember 50 people I’m grateful for. I start with my family, then friends old and new, I think about my neighbors, yoga mates, class mates, colleagues, then I start looking around and find myself grateful for the people around me this morning, running up the hills, no we are walking actually, through rocks and mud, and the volunteers that made it all happen. I’m way past 50 of course but who is counting.
This is when I start to feel energized. I think about your beautiful faces and the journeys you are on, and my time with you. I promise you I see your beauty, and hear it in the tone of your voices, your eyes transferring so much emotion, confusion, clarity. I see it when my head is clear, and apparently when I’m out in nature walking/running with a bunch of strangers.
Then we get to the street for the last few miles and I hear Dory from Finding Nemo in my head saying ‘just keep swimming, just keep swimming’ (when you happen to watch it with your then toddler a million times, it stays with you it turns out). I keep going, thinking trail shoes are not the best to run on the street though they were clearly the right choice for the mud part, and also thinking is it over yet, now, now?
So that’s how I get to the finish line. Not in the fast lane but the slow. This was not about running either. This morning felt like an adventure. This is how I want to spend my 50s; signing up, showing up even when not prepared enough, running into obstacles, surprises, keep going, while noticing and gushing over all the beauty that surrounds me, appreciating people who show up in my life, and at the finish line realizing it is not a big deal after all, all this running about; it is a gift rather, and a memory that is now replaced with a good breakfast.
