Riverbound Race

My expectations are frequently exceedingly low, much like those of a surly 15 year old boy, I find myself quite sure that something is going to suck. It's nothing more than a nervous habit that has been slow to shed itself. So it is no surprise that I woke up this morning with a nervous belly and sense of what the heck was I thinking when I signed up for the 10K instead of the 5K trail.

The troops and I made it to the Whitewater Center with nary a second to spare. Mark dropped me off at the front, so I could run to pick up my race packet, clumsily fiddle the shoe chip and bib on while running to the potty, then running over to the start line, I scanned the rock wall area to see if I could spot a man and two kiddies roaming around the grounds. Finally I caught sight of fellow wearing a red Maryland t-shirt, carrying not one, but two children, one on each hip, while, yep!, running to catch a glimpse of mama at the start. I waved furiously and I hoped Mark would telepathically know that I was telling him, I am leaving my new shirt here on the rock, so pretty please come over here and pick it up for me while I scamper off into the woods.

I also did a quick scan for the two ladies I know who were running today, but no luck. And before I could take a better scan of all the folks running, the crowd began to shift and I suddenly realized the race was on. No gun shot.

Off we went. Down a wide gravel path. Then a turn. I spotted a cheery familiar face and red plaid running skirt, and got a boosting shout-out. Then another familiar face, and we gave each other hearty waves. Then another slight turn, into the woods on the North Trail.

And then quickly, despite my concerns that a small trail would make it hard to find a rhythm, trying to get out of the way of others, and lo and behold!, negotiated my way around other people, all while digging into the dirt and stomping on roots and rocks, I found it. Although there were people in front, people behind, the solitude of the run in the woods was exhilarating. And to be so pointed with what was happening right then and there was a level of being I don't often reach.

So when the 5K'ers broke off and went left, and I headed right, I remembered why I signed up for the 10K. Because I wasn't finished yet.

My inability to come up with a water bottle plan fortunately turned out to be a moot point. They had a couple of water stations. I grabbed, gulped, spilled, then debated whether or not I should just hold onto the cup instead of tossing onto the ground. Yes, they expect that. Yes, they are prepared to clean it up. But I feel guilty every time.

On the way up Goat Hill loop, I took five walking steps. Everyone around me seemed to be walking at this point.

On the way down Goat Hill loop, I had an amazing epiphany about Heath and life, and I'm sure it had to do with ups and downs and peaks and valleys. And I felt some rain begin to fall. I wondered about the kiddies. I failed to pack their rain jackets. They will be okay, I decided.

Then we were back in the wide open clearing of the reddish dirt, where I was sure I was lost last Sunday. Now I know I wasn't lost, I was just practicing.

Back into the woods some volunteers cheered and shouted and said, You're almost there. I thought, wow, I haven't fallen. I immediately stumbled. In quite a flat spot, too.

I knew the finish was the same as the start, so as soon as I began to recognize that we were, in fact, almost there. I ran back onto the original wide gravel path, and began to look for Mark and thekids. Like a beacon in the night, my friend in the red plaid skirt stood on top of a rock (of course she was finished already, Miss Speedy), cheering my name. Mark woo-hooing for me, holding Stella, Heath standing by his side. My friend's husband and kids jumping and cheering. It was just the last little boost and goosebump-filled moment I needed to speed across the finish line.

Every now and then something exceeds my expectations.