Resilience

I woke up at 6:00 this morning to drop-off my college roommate at the starting line of the Twin Cities marathon.   She had been awake for a half hour already, when she learned via her phone that the marathon had been cancelled.

To everyone in MN who prefers the climate to change, rather than have to move to a warmer one, you are now a winner.

People texted my friend other marathon options...that included added costs, travel and scheduling conflicts. 

Last night when we talked about her "why" for running. She had decided she was running this race to learn about resilience.  She was anticipating physical resilience, or mental perseverance, not that the race she had trained for months for would be cancelled.

This is a different kind of resilience.

Life is tricky.

After a few hours she decided she needed to get out and walk or bike.  I asked if she wanted to run at all. She said no, she didn't have water to take with her (she planned on water en route). I asked where she wanted to go, by me or on the race route.  She said she didn't care. So I decided we'd just walk from my place.

But then I thought about it and decided we should go to the race route, there would probably be other runners out there and it would be good for her to be with others sharing her disappointment.  

We drove to the route, parked and started walking.  There were other runners and there were still people cheering, some people were passing out water, and there was music.  

"I'm wanting to run," my friend said.

"I figured you would," I responded.

"I don't have my brace."

"We can go back to the car and get it,"

"I don't want to go back."

So she started running, I went back to the car. Then drove ahead and tried to find her.  

It is tricky because they decided to cancel the race for the heat, yet people were still running and the route wasn't marked as well and there was less support for runners, certainly no runner tracking.  I almost gave up on finding my friend and then I spotted her.  I parked a bit ahead, stopped her and she put some supports on her legs, grabbed some gel packs and kept going with her cell phone.

She started running at mile 4. I drove to mile 10 and waited with my sign for her.  I really didn't think this would be that fun, but I was really surprised to feel the opposite, even with much fewer runners and supporters, I got caught up in the energy.  She hugged me at mile 10 and continued.  I dropped her stuff off at her friend's near the end of the route, and then I went to play soccer.

I don't know how far she got.  I'm sure there are people who still pushed themselves today, without the medical support the marathon provides. She had her adult children textable to pick her up, as well as the friend who lived later en route.  So I just hope she was able to feel her resilience without endangering her health. 

Just writing this I started worrying about her in the heat.  I went to get my work cell phone.  I got her 17 year old's number (who was one of the people picking her up at the end of the race) last night.  I was going to ask, but there was already a text from him 20 minutes ago,

"She finished."

I'm not sure if that means she made it to the finish line, or that she completed the whole 26.2 (since she started near mile 4), but it does mean her family knows where she is and she is breathing.

And I'm so, so, so grateful that we didn't just sit inside all morning.  I'm grateful she eventually wanted to go for a walk.  And I'm grateful I listened to my intuition that she should be around other runners.  I couldn't imagine planning to run 26.2 miles one day and then

not running at all.

I thought she needed something, even if were less, to still feel an accomplishment.

However she finished, she did it with less institutional support and less fan support.  There wasn't a race app that people that loved her could follow to find her.

Yet she kept going.

I guess resilience is the word alright.