This morning, awakened by the steady percussion of drizzle and the staccato hi-hat of steely spit drumming against my window, I sit upright in bed. It’s still dark out. Honestly, I could have used a few precious extra minutes to sleep, but I force myself to stand and grab my vanilla white Asics. Weathered and gnarled old friends, they hug my feet like a fat Italian grandfather. Lacing up, fixing a crude knot, I clutch my water bottle and bolt for the door. It’s freezing out. My six foot frame shakes with a shiver; my stiff legs force into action. Puffs of thick velvet vapor cut the air and my breath quickens. Heart pounding, feet thumping, my pace takes rhythm, faster and faster I go.
Lungs on fire, cold sears my hands like a billion stinging jellyfish. I can taste the lactic acid in the back of my throat. My muscles burn like a hot, hot habanero. Not much longer now. Muscles stiffening, each step becomes more and more difficult. There’s strength in pain. My thoughts wander.
Life is a long series of runs, strung together, the loose ends knotted end to end. One race ends; another begins. I’m sometimes guilty of lingering in the future before it’s arrived. Chalk this week up as one of those moments, because this year has been a marathon. I just passed mile twenty; there’s just six weeks to go. I miss home, my mom’s Italian cooking, powdered sugar brownies, and a freezer full of Ben & Jerry’s. I can’t wait to spend the holidays stringing lights on a fake plastic evergreen, the smell of cappuccinos and cookies in the oven. I can picture myself there. But, I’m here right now, in the endless woods and meandering farms of New York. I’m excited to see my family again and I can’t wait to reconnect with my team. I am doing my best to stay in the moment. I promise to finish strong. There’s beauty in patient perseverance. One foot in front of the other, eyes focused on today, tomorrow will take care of itself. I’m running on empty, but almost there.
