My Thousand Mile Journey

It crossed my mind this time last year, but I didn’t want to set myself up for failure.  I knew the math should work, but life can be unpredictable.  So I set the idea aside and instead decided that in 2012 my goal for running was to simply enjoy it.  No pressure for PR’s (personal records), no distance calendars to follow, no ignoring warning signs of injury that might slow me down.  Instead, I would enjoy the moment, listen to my body, run fast when I wanted to, run slow when I wanted to, and use the time to digest my thoughts and let ideas percolate.

So I was caught a little off guard when I received the email from my RunKeeper app that I reached 1,000 miles this past year.  Wow.  In 1,000 miles I could have run to Eugene, Oregon...to Las Vegas- ONE AND A HALF TIMES...or to the Grand Canyon- AND BACK.  A thousand miles is a long way, with nothing but my own two feet, the discipline and will to move them, and some favorite music as a soundtrack to life.  


But I didn’t have to travel 1,000 miles away to have the experience of a lifetime. Some of those miles were in the pouring rain, some in extreme heat; most in total darkness, some in silvery moonlight, most at sunrise, and many at moonset.  There were hills that challenged and rewarded me.  There were times when I felt weightless and carried by the wind, and times when I felt like I was running backwards in molasses.  But most of the time I felt an indescribable inner peace.  I consciously tried to run with my senses, varying my path to experience different sights, sounds, smells and textures.  I saw raccoons, coyotes, bunnies and owls...and wildlife of another kind with a police chase, broken into cars, and the aftermath of recent accidents along my path (followed by a quick prayer of thanks that I wasn’t in that place at the wrong time).  I met new neighbors and made new friends.  And there isn’t a single run I can think of that I regret.  Not one.

In fact, to the contrary.  My memories of running those 1,000 miles are punctuated by the satisfaction of breaking a sweat in the freezing cold, from seeing the familiar comforts of smoke rising from a wood-burning chimney and the sweet smell of pancakes emanating from neighborhood homes; glorious sunrises that take my breath away and smiling moons that prompt me to smile back; the crunch of the gravel underfoot that reminds me that with every stride I move forward; shadows that accompany me and sunlight that shines ethereal rays of hope that light my path.  These are the moments that make it all worth it.  These are the moments that make 1,000 miles feel like a tremendous gift rather than a tedious chore.

And my gratitude for this significant reward is made sweeter by its unexpected timing.  I have a sense of satisfaction that is hard to calculate...so much so that I am positive that I would not have relished this achievement had I formally planned for it- I’d be too busy planning my next, bigger goal to celebrate.  It’s just my nature.  But not today.  Today I take a moment to reflect on my 1,000 mile journey, count my blessings, recognize my supportive family, and do a little happy dance while marveling at my thousand milestones.

And tomorrow I run again.

Finding the Christmas Spirit

I knew I was taking a risk by responding, but it’s usually the case that doing something is harder than doing nothing, even when it’s the right thing. And my kids were watching.

We were knee deep in Christmas lights and decorations...trying to prep the outside decorations while simultaneously rotating the toys inside the house to the garage to make room for the tree. As you might suspect, this is NOT an easy task with two three year olds clinging and crying about the temporary departure of every toy, despite our best efforts to “capture the moment” with Christmas music blaring the background. (By the way, the trick is to distract them with a “new” toy to rotate in- they will play happily for at least 20 minutes- but have those ready to go before removing the “old” ones). The older boys and the neighbors were playing out front when my second oldest (and animal lover) yelled to me that a stray dog had just wandered into our yard. I’ll be honest, my first thoughts were...I’m sure the dog can find its way home. If I check for a collar and there isn’t one, then I’ve taken on the responsibility of finding its owner. Maybe I can just assure my son that the dog will be fine and we can pretend this never happened.

After all, we lost our beloved dog earlier this year and it was quite traumatic for the family, but especially this child. And he’s been begging for another dog ever since. I knew that was HIS first thought.

Photo: bk images

Sure enough, the dog had a collar...but no tag. Now I couldn’t let her wander off because I knew she belonged to someone who loved her enough to give her a collar. And she was a very sweet black lab mix. So, leaving my patient and understanding husband to man the twins and mess of toys, five kids (including the neighbors, minus the dog-lover) and Christmas decorations, my son and I set off, going house to house in search of the dog’s owner. We made it clear to the end of our street and back, and no one recognized her. And while most people were apologetic, none offered to help find her owner.  I knew I couldn’t keep her even for a few days to hang signs with 4 small kids at our house, despite my son’s pleading. And she had some visible tumors, so calling the Humane Society would not be ideal. Even trying to get her to a vet’s office to see if she had a microchip (if I could find one open on a Sunday) would be problematic with the kids.

Finally, I approached the last house within proximity and held out hope that this would be her home. I was relieved when the kid the lives there opened the door, but then he said she wasn’t his black lab and my heart sank. Upon taking a closer look, he said he did know who she belonged to and offered to take her home. He has no idea how grateful I was to hear those words!

Interestingly enough, this house was only two doors down from us, yet it was the last house I tried. In part because we had issues with this (and another neighbor) kid a few years back who were several years older than our boys and who had been cussing and being mischievous in front of our kids (4 and 5 at the time). My husband had to “talk to” the neighbor boys about being appropriate in front of younger kids. And there just didn’t seem to be a lot of parental supervision, so we encouraged out kids to steer clear of him. Yet, this very kid (a few years later) is offering to help me tremendously without giving it a second thought. He was kind and courteous and a good neighbor.

So, this experience has reminded me this Christmas to love my neighbor (and, as my husband put it, “not judge them by their skinny jeans” and skate boards), to remove myself from the chaos and stress that is “the season” and focus on helping others and doing the right thing. So many people (and a dog) in the this situation were helped, and at the end of the day, isn’t that what’s it all about?

And, no our decorations aren't hung, but Christmas has begun at our house.