Running and the celebration of life.

If you've been here lately you know that I put in an application for a chance to run the North Pole Marathon. (You can read my entire application here). Here is one statement I made in my application,

The one thing that I have found in those moments that I have questioned myself and who I was is that there was one constant - running.

There was one specific moment in my life that I felt that running really allowed me to appreciate who I was and celebrate life:

Flying Pig Marathon 2003

In May of 2003 I participated in my 4th marathon - The Flying Pig Marathon. There were many reasons to be positive about the race because my training had never been more consistent. I was regularly running with the Todd's Road Stumblers which helped me get in a lot of miles incorporating hill training. The other areas of my life were also operating smoothly, specifically my spiritual life. I had been spending as much time on my spiritual life as I had on my running. The great thing that I found is that when my mind, emotions and spirit were calmed down - my running was even more beneficial. Runs were not only about putting in miles.

Skip ahead to mile 25.....

After running the first 18 miles with three other runners I met on the course I had to move on, so I started running by myself. Not long after that, I started running with a couple friends (Beth and Eric Atnip). I ran with them until mile 25, which by that time I was in a lot of pain. My hips really hurt, my quads were cramping - the typical marathon feelings. As I was running the last 1.2 miles I was struggling, trying to find anything that would help me pick my pace up to push through the finish (and make sure I didn't collapse and not make the 3:10 Boston cut-off).

Then I had a really deep inspirational feeling come upon me. I began to have a flow of images and thoughts related to my grandfather, Raymond. There were pictures of him that my grandmother showed me that keep repeating themselves. One of those pictures was my grandfather on a horse with the horse raising up Lone Ranger style. The only difference is that the horse wasn't on two hind legs, but one (according to my mother who said you had to pull the photo out of the frame to see it). The second picture was of him and his brothers working in the fields at a young age (my grandmother thought maybe 20). The amazing thing about the work they were doing was that they were doing the harvest by hand. They had a horse lead trailer to put the wheat on, but the cutting and binding was manual.

With those photos replaying in my mind, I continued to have this overwhelming sense that even though he hadn't been around since 1993, he was with me in that moment. In fact I started to get so emotional that began to cry and almost began to worry that I was going to hyperventilate.

I know that many people that have pushed the endurance performance envelope know that things can get a little funny towards the end of the race. Low blood sugar, dehydration, whatever reason, the end of a race can cause all kinds of things to happen.

In response to the last 1.2 miles at the Flying Pig, I choose to believe that grandpa was there to help me. To make me understand what it means to push through, to take in the family tradition of hard workers.... because he wanted to see me succeed.

Today I learned that grandma has passed on and will be able to see grandpa once again. While I learned lessons of hard work and the cowboy spirit from my grandfather, I will not forget the lessons of faith that I've learned by watching my grandmother over the past 14 years.

I'll see you both on my next run.