Surviving ourselves

My nerves are all aflutter. 

 

Race-day jitters make up a part of it. But it is something out of the ordinary – like a road trip with friends -- that counts for the lion’s share of my angst.

 

Today I will be among a small field of amazing women -- nine to be exact --  who are running Celebrate Life Half Marathon, a few of us for the first time, but all of us for the last time.

 

For decades, CLHM has offered a lifeline to families in Sullivan County who have faced a cancer diagnosis and treatment, raising hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years to ease some of the economic burdens families face when they have to navigate a serious health crisis.

 

Voted one of the best half marathons in New York State by 100 Half Marathons Club and featured in Runners’ World Magazine, the race will cease operations after its 20th anniversary, this year. 

 

It is a beautiful and challenging course, much like life itself. 

 sure many runners will be sad to see it end.

 

This day might have been months in the planning but is has been years in the making.

 

We are mothers, and daughters. We are single and married. We are Democrats and Republicans. We are holding ourselves to healthy lives with healthy debate. Sometimes we don't get it just right. But we keep trying.

 

All nine of us. 

 

We've rented four rooms.

 

Devised a plan for carpooling.

 

We have even secured reservations for the standard pre-race carbo-loading event at a fine dining establishment we are crossing our fingers ascribes to the belief that bread, being the staff of life and all, should be served warm and in quantities that rival an all-you-can-eat buffet.  

 

That will surely be a highlight, but if we can somehow manage to wrangle pre-checkout showers after we cross the finish line (dangerously close to check-out time) we will have attained post-race heaven.

 

I am as ready as I will ever be. And thankful I will be regardless.

 

I have packed, unpacked, and repacked my bag at least three times thus far.  I know I'm going to overpack yet still forget something important ... like socks or my shoes.

 

A part of me worries obsessively that the pandemic years have made me even more of a feral beast than I was already; insulated by isolation and a touch more unfit for polite society. Like, when was the last time I shaved my legs? I'm probably going to laugh too loud, aren't I?   

 

I mean who forgets their shoes?

 

Life threatening illness isn’t the only hardship that challenges us or turns us into survivors. Pain; the loss of someone close to us; a divorce; or even simply unmet aspirations can throw us for a loop.

 

So on this day, I will try not to worry, but instead, I will embrace my awkwardness as a reminder that sometimes the most important thing is to survive ourselves.

 

And that is surely something to celebrate.