Monday, April 22, 2013

Hitting the Wall

I recently decided I was done with blogging.... again. I've come to this decision many times and for various reasons. This time is was because I've hit the wall. I've run out of steam with this whole moving thing. I'm tired of thinking about it, talking about it and definitely tired of writing about it. Who cares, anyway? We're moving. People move all the time. Steve and I are separated. Couples are separated all the time.

I've run out of endurance.

I'm ready for a new chapter. A new plot line.

Then Monday happened. April 15, 2013. The Boston Marathon.

In 1998 Steve and I were living in Boston. We had just moved to the campus of Gordon-Conwell, where Steve was getting his M.Div. The whole marathon thing was new to us.  The Monday of the run we were watching the race on TV, sitting in our den, and I'll never forget the moment. Steve looked at me and said, "I'm going run that next year." I said back, "You should!"

Now, at the time Steve was not a runner. He was in good shape and he has always been an athlete but running a marathon? That's a whole new game and we had no idea how he should start. He found out in order to run Boston you have to run another marathon first and qualify. Steve's mind was made up so he set out to make it happen. Pretty quickly he realized he was going to need some help. I was more of a runner at the time, but not distance- maybe 3 - 4 miles a day, but we set out on this adventure together.

He heard about a guy on campus that had run the Boston marathon so Steve sought him out and asked him if we would help him qualify for Boston. Rob gave him some great tips, even running with him some. We trained for 5 months (I decided to train for a half marathon) We picked the Disney marathon to be his qualifying race.

It was a long, difficult training. Steve had never run more than a few miles and that was in high school when we was playing soccer. He was training through the fall and into the winter (in Boston, remember??) Running in rain, wind, snow. And, to top it all off, one day while playing with the kids, he tore his left ring finger almost off. After surgery and a few days of recovery he was back to running. Of course, he had to run with his arm above his head and with a grocery bag tied around it! Yeah, this was definitely against the doctors orders.

But, after our long journey (I say "our journey" because I was training too, but also if you are the spouse of a marathoner then you know..... it's a joint effort to get them to the finish line!)

Over Christmas break we drove down to Florida to run the Disney marathon and half marathon. In order for Steve to qualify to run Boston he had to run the race in 3:10. I finished my run and painfully, slowly made my way to the finish line of the marathon where Steve crossed at 3:36.  To say he was devastated would be an exaggeration, but to say he was disappointed seems a bit to mild. Hey, we'd both just finished our first big races and I'm pretty sure 3:36 is a great first marathon by anyone's standards but still no Boston for Steve that April.

THEN.... we got back to school and Steve told Rob all about the race. Rob's response:  "There's one more race you can run to qualify. It's right here in Cape Cod. I'll get you ready and run it with you."

WHAT?!?! The Cape Cod marathon was less than two months away. But, naturally Steve jumped at the chance and Rob began training him. The week before the race it snowed almost 30 inches. The day of the race we woke up to sub zero temperatures. Steve and Rob had driven up to Cape Cod the day before so that morning Katy (Rob's wife), the kids and I drove up to be there for the end of the run.

We got to the finish line and looked down the course to see piles of snow on either side. I'm talking two walls of snow! There was a huge clock showing the time and it was about 2 1/2 hours into the race. We waited and cheered on the few that did cross.  It was the 3 hour mark. No Steve, no Rob. I knew for them to do it sub 3 hours would have been amazing so I wasn't too worried. Then 3: 05, 3:06. Now, I was worried.

Two guys, running side by side. They were too far away to tell if it was our guys. Yes, no, maybe? Katy and I are yelling, screaming. People around us start asking questions about who were cheering for. We tell them our husbands, who are trying to qualify for Boston.  A guy beside me, in typical Boston fashion says, "Oh my Gawd, they better hurry." Yeah, no joke. These guys running were not Rob and Steve.

It's 3:09. I start to give up. Start to tell myself there is always next year. Then two runners turn the corner for the home stretch. It could be them... maybe? Everyone at the finish line starts yelling. I still can't tell if it's them, then someone says, "one of the guys is shirtless!" It's Steve! I know it! The colder it is the better he runs! We are literally going crazy by then. Jumping up and down, screaming, grabbing each other. Steve crosses the finish line at 3:09. 36. He makes qualifying by 24 seconds!
To this day, it is one of the most exciting events I've ever witnessed!

That April. April 1999 Steve ran his first Boston marathon. Harrison and I were on the side line- just a few feet from the finish line. It was a great day.

Last night, Maddie and Ellie went to a run. A Boston marathon memorial run. In 1999, Maddie was 4 and Ellie 2. Now, they are young women. As they left to run, Ellie wearing one of Steve's medals from Boston, I cried. I cried because I was so sad. Saddened by the devastation of Monday, by the horror of what so many witnessed up close and what the rest of us witnessed from a distance. I cried because I am grieving. Grieving for the families of the lost and injured. But, also because I was so proud. Proud of my girls for going out at 9pm on a Tuesday night to take part in a community effort to honor and remember what happened at the marathon. I was proud that they wanted to stand up and say, "we will  not give in to fear, to grief, to the horror. We will stand for light and hope. We will endure!"

There is another finish line right now. This time I am not on the sideline but in the race. When the bombings happened on Monday I could feel myself falling behind even more, tempted to drop out all together. Sometimes, it's just feels easier to give up and honestly, sometimes I think it's okay to drop out. I believe there are times you need to give yourself a break- give yourself grace.

As I think about how hard Steve trained that first year, how much we worked together to get him to that first Boston finish line I can't help but feel a small stirring in my heart. A renewed desire to finish this race. I want to feel the pride of knowing it was a race well run. I've just got to get over the wall. Endure. The finish line is around the corner. Virginia Beach is in sight. Living together as a family again.... we can make it!














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