Moving Forward in the NYC Marathon

Running moves you forward. Sometimes, I look around and it feels like my life is standing still. Relationships, work, routines. And so I run, to have something, at least one thing, moving forward.
Running the NYC marathon was a long time in the making. As a 3-time lottery reject, I finally gained guaranteed entry into the 2012 race. Superstorm Sandy devastated my hometown of Long Beach Island, NJ, so I was disappointed about the cancellation of the marathon but completely understood and approved of the decision. 2013 it would be.  And then I ran a marathon in Wales in July with a torn calf muscle and had to defer my NYC entry to 2014.
Arriving on Staten Island took many years.  But through the long wait and the cold winds, I smiled. I was here. I had no time goal for the day -- I just wanted to soak it all in and enjoy the entire experience.
Getting blown sideways across the bridges, I giggled. Hearing the millions of amazing spectators, I marveled. Seeing the firefighters and police officers cheering us on, I waved and said thank YOU. Listening to the bands playing, the choirs singing, the "Welcome to Brooklyn!" cheers, the "You can do this! Way to go! Keep going!" encouragement from every volunteer, I smiled.
I grimaced, too. When my stomach felt upset from miles 15-20, and my right hamstring was really cranky from mile 17ish on, I fought the discomfort. I adjusted my running. I slowed down. A good friend once said, "If you're not having fun, you're running too fast -- slow down!" and I did, because my only goal was to enjoy the day.
I found friends at mile 17 and snapped a pic with them after big hugs. I kept my eyes wide open and my mindset positive as my body hurt. I made my way into Central Park and decided I loved the downhill of mile 25 more than anything else. I loved the final stretch up Central Park South. I loved the turn back into the park and loved all those people lining the final quarter mile. I loved seeing my family in the grandstands, and I loved crossing that finish line.
It was a tough running day, but one of my favorite marathons. The volunteers make that race incredible. The 26.2 miles of party that is the NYC marathon is truly an experience like no other.
Running moves us forward. We gain through each run. We grow. We learn.  And the NYC marathon is a run that will leave its mark on all of us in the form of a smile with each recollection.

The Great West

For miles and miles and miles, all I see is mountains and boulders, grasslands and sky.  It is enormous.  It is vast.  I can't even comprehend how much land and sky and space is out there.  I am in awe.  I breathe it in.  I ground myself.  I dig my feet into the earth and turn my face to the sun and soak in the grandeur of our land.  This is a moment that opens me. 

I am but a small grain of sand in the landscape of our world.  One speck.  And I feel it here.

I have emotions, I have goals, I have worries, I have cares.  So often, one of these, or many, are my world.  They consume me.  They mark me.  They prevent me from seeing beyond my speck.  In those moments, my little grain of sand is a big as the land I soak in now.

I am standing, with my feet in the earth, listening to the tumble of the stream over the rocky bed, feeling the cool breeze as it whispers across my face.  My worries are carried into that stream.  My cares become songs in that breeze.  My emotions are warmed by the sun, and my little speck joins the vast landscape before me.

I am part of this.  I am a single grain, and I am woven into this great land, and I am part of it.  It is bigger than me, and I am part of it.  This land is in me.  It is me.  It is my breath, my heartbeat.

For miles and miles and miles all I see is open land.  It is vast, it is enormous.  It is bigger than I'll ever be, and I breathe it in.  I dig my feet into the earth, and it grounds me.  I breathe it in, and it warms me.  And as I stand in this moment, my hearbeat joins the pulse of this land.