Two steps forward...

It rained again today; a steady, slow drenching that has left the yard soggy and the mosquitoes enormous, and our spirits a little more down in the dumps than usual. We still haven't found summer hiding among the daisies and the peony bushes - but we've searched, quietly when mother nature wasn't trying to drown us, which seems like every other day again this year, and frankly, we're tired of it. But what can we do? Protest marches? Letter writing campaign? Facebook petition? It's a losing battle, we know, and someday we'll figure out that we haven't lost anything in days like these, except the ability to spot the normal perfectness that is all around us.

Life gives us what we need, not what we want. We know this, but we rally against life and try to find something to control, something to own, something to quiet the distant ache of uneasiness and unhappiness, something to fill us up and make us feel whole and worthy, of what we are not certain, but worthy just the same.

And so we struggle, instead of letting go and accepting our fate and enjoying the ride.

It's been a month of struggle around here lately. Self imposed struggle you might say, thanks to our decision months ago to enter our first ever half-marathon. Somewhere in the last year we found a past-time that seemed innocent enough, a pair of running shoes, shorts and t-shirt and off you go, one foot in front of the other. Babies can do this. Babies DO do this, and we celebrate them when they do, and then they grow older and they run everywhere and are full of energy and we stand back in awe of how it must feel to be so full of energy and vigour and get-up-and-go... No one celebrates when a couple of 40 somethings decide its time they got off their rear ends and starting moving a bit more quickly, and cut back on the cream and the sugar and the sweets, and wake up when it's still dark and put on those running shoes and shorts and t-shirts and slip out to run a few miles and get back home before the rest of the world wakes up and sees them and points and wonders what the hell those two think they're up too?

We still don't consider ourselves 'runners' - that label we seem to save for those gazelle-like creatures who flow when they run, effortless movement through space, feet barely touching ground before lifting off once more; unlike our still slowish plodding and noisy, heavy, thumping on the uneven pavement. The gazelles run continuously; we break up our running with regular walk breaks, allowing our older, tired bodies a wonderful recovery and extending our runs in the process.

Not that we ever aspired to become gazelles; these leopards aren't changing the spots they were dealt, let's face it. But a year ago we walked / ran the 2.6 mile Super Run during the annual Father's Day Manitoba Marathon; by October we had fooled ourselves into running a race, an evening race no less, while on vacation in Florida. I tackled the Tower of Terror 13K while the rest of the family took on the 5K. We survived, and enjoyed it enough to bump up the challenge to the next level, hence this years half-marathon.

No longer content with the Super Run, or the 10K Walk, we took on the Half Marathon, 13.1 miles (20K). We entered a real race! And so we trained, quietly, slowly, methodically; building up our strength and stamina along the way, not fooling ourselves into thinking we had become anything more than better runners than we had been a year ago. And that was fine. This half marathon's goal was just to finish, no stress of a time goal needed.

And even that looked like it might be pushing it, when we both ended up with injuries and in physiotherapy two weeks before the event. One of us was left with the desire to run but without the ability (thanks to my ITBand flair up) and the other battled lack of energy and motivation to continue mixed in with hip / back issues that hampered the ability even once the motivation returned. But with fantastic assistance from our wonderful friend and therapist, we both healed sufficiently to continue with our plans and so we found ourselves on this past Sunday, lined up safely behind the gazelles and the cheetahs, back with the warthogs and elephants and tortoises, but lined up just the same, waiting for the crack of the starters pistol and Chariots of Fire and then we did it. Step by step, mile after mile, surrounded by runners from every walk of life, every size, shape, gender and possible running style or lack thereof, all progressing toward our own personal goals.

We slowed as the miles passed, Karen hit a wall near mile 7 so we walked more and talked more, and enjoyed the cool shady confines of the neighbourhood and the hospitality of the residents cheering everyone on from their lawn chairs, curbside Sunday morning, and once she regained her energy, we picked up the pace a bit again, mindful of our previous injuries, but determined to find that finish line.

A few more miles on we passed through our own neighbourhood, no thoughts of turning and heading home this morning, we continued on, and soon found ourselves within earshot of the PA announcer and the spectators and the wonderful volunteers waiting inside the University Stadium. We conserved our strength as we headed into the stadium grounds, and stepped onto the track together running in unison, side by side, urging each other through the cramping leg muscles and the aching joints, listened as our names were announced, and then with a determined effort, rounded the final bend and headed for the finish line. Cheered on by the volunteers lining the track at the finish zone, congratulated as we crossed, and rewarded with a medal for our efforts, we high fived and congratulated each other, and ourselves, and were absorbed into the crowd of recovering runners behind the stadium grandstand.

We accomplished what set out to do! And we felt great!

Shiny medals around our necks a reminder of that fact, and it was fitting we would do it the way we did, slowed by injuries, hungry for more but not quite able to get there, humbled in the process, and ultimately left to accept our circumstances and deal with them as best we could. Why would it work out any other way?

We got what we needed, and on this Sunday, it was also exactly what we wanted.