I am running down a tiny country lane just north of Lynchburg. The road undulates like those ribbon candies they sell at Christmas. Up and down gentle slopes. A donkey is braying somewhere. Far away. Coming to me almost like an echo. The familiar scents of hay and manure fill my nostrils. My flashlight occasionally falls upon a bovine herd, tranquil, at rest.
The air is crisp and clean. And cold. I can trace the course my breath takes inside my body. Funny how cold feels like fire inside. The night sky is pinpricked with starlight. Like a treasure chest of diamonds, of infinite variety, has been flung against the sky. I am too much entranced. I almost lose my footing, more than once, because I cannot stop looking at them.
I am glad it is dry. Earlier, in the afternoon, as I ran across the top of Monteagle, there had been sleet and rain. Pieces of ice pelting my face. It had come up suddenly, the water soaking my shirt before I could get my rain jacket on. When that run was over, I exchanged wet clothes for dry, but my skin still throbbed. Blood coursing to my extremeties to protect me against the cold.
Up ahead of me a van waits with 5 of my 11 teammates. We are engaged in a great game of leap frog from Chattanooga to Nashville. We will travel 195.5 miles in 30 hours, visiting historic towns like Winchester (where we have amazing barbecue at John T's BBQ on the square), Manchester, Lynchburg (where Mike runs across the grounds of the Jack Daniels Distillery), Tullahoma, and Shelbyville. We will enjoy a few silent moments of reflection inside the magnificent All Saints' Chapel on the grounds of the University of the South in Sewanee. On Saturday, we will travel picturesque backroads in and around Franklin and Brentwood, and experience the gentrified grandeur of Belle Mead Boulevard. And the sunshine will finally thaw us out.
We average 2-3 hours of sleep, grabbed in snatches here and there. We eat more than necessary. We begin to laugh at things that are not funny. A lot. And the van, which has only 300 miles on the odometer when we pick it up, does NOT smell new anymore. We see friends at almost every exchange. And we make new friends. Each runner encourages the others. We are many teams, but we are one. We are in this together.
Around 2pm, runner number 12, my cousin Chris, begins his last leg at Belmont Boulevard. As he is running down Music Row, we are racing to the finish. The whole team will join him to cross the finish line together. I have family waiting there. It is the first time in four and a half years of running that I have ever had family at the finish line. It feels really good.
Some of my friends think I'm crazy for doing things like this. Maybe they are right. But here is how I see it. Life is full of things that seem too hard. There are opportunities every day to quit. But, most of the time that which costs most is worth most. And quitting is not an option. So I practice. I practice doing things that are too hard. I practice not quitting. I surround myself with a team. We look after one another. We forgive one another when we stink. We encourage one another. And we laugh. A lot. And somewhere, down the road, we will park the van, and all join hands, and cross the finish line. Together.
To my Ragnar teammates: Mike, Monty, Chris, Jonathan, Heath, Chatty, Chris, Carissa, Troy, Todd & David, thanks for an unforgettable weekend.
Congratulations to all of you! And yes, "quitting is not an option" -- I have to remind myself of that sometimes! :)
Posted by: Julie B | 08 November 2010 at 01:34 PM