Making Strides

Making Strides


When, I lined up at the starting line for my brother's 5k, in September, I took a private moment. “Rick”, I said, “I did it.  I picked up the load you left me. I did what needed to be done. Now, I need your help to get me back”. 


And, we were off.  


And, the pain was excruciating.  


Within 0.25 miles, that familiar electric charge, that radiates up my leg, was back. 


The charge, I've tried to deafen with inserts, cortisone shots and surgery aimed at melting the culprit. I've tried changing shoes, pace, gait and terrain.  I've iced, rolled and elevated. I've given up racing, and was ready to give up running altogether. (Get ready yoga, you’re up). I felt as if I'd exhausted all options, all to no avail.


At that moment, however, I tried one more thing.  I enjoyed some time with Rick’s four year old granddaughter, Ella.  


Ella, and I would run from signpost to signpost, racing and giggling, the whole way.  


The thing is, Ella cheats. 


She says, “Look over there!  A fish just jumped!” to distract me (worked EVERY time) and take off like a bolt.  SO much like Rick, I looked to the heavens, and gave him a wink. 


I learned something during that race, I only have to run from signpost to signpost, to get where I need, and sometimes, to do that, I need a distraction 


I was ready to own the now me.  The hurting foot, non-running me.  The me with what it offered at the moment. 


And, with that, I scheduled the surgery that could end my running forever.  


Except, maybe it didn’t. 


Fast forward to yesterday, when my team was taking part in the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer 5k.  


We got into our huddle, and one of my runners called out “Sweet Home on three. Family on six. '' And, I heard my brother so clearly, that I actually turned to look for him


“Go be you”.  


And, I did!  In my orthopedic recovery boot, I ran every step. 


I was ecstatic at the finish line and hugged my co-coach and very good friend, Christine (who WON the women's race).  I walked up and said, “if I was going to have a last race, I wanted it to be with the team, but I may not be done” She just looked at me and said “you’re never done” 

If I look very closely, far into the distance, I think I see a sign post.





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