Remembering to Breathe

In 2017, I ran my first marathon in Missoula. This weekend I am excited to be able to run the Missoula Marathon again. It is a well organized race series in a community that shows up by the hundreds to celebrate the spirit and dedication of running unlike any other. #MissoulaMarathon #LastBestRace

A coworker recently asked me what I was running from when I shared I was training for a marathon. It was hard to explain in a concise way what all I run for. I agree with Victoria Phillippi @run4prs.coachvictoria who shared “Running marathons is more about who you become while training than your time on the clock.” Training for the marathon has brought back lots of memories and has given me the excuse to push myself physically and mentally.

Running my first marathon was special. I traveled with a group of friends and Courtney ran the full race with me. However, the most memorable part of the weekend was meeting our daughter Emma. Our journey to be together in ways mirrors marathon training. Others don’t always understand it. But to us, it is what makes our lives complete.

During the final week of the instructional year, I was searching for a quote to show my appreciation to staff. Emily in her serendipitous sisterly wisdom happened to send me an Instagram message with the above quote from Tavernier. The passage captures so many of the entry points, celebrations, and the overall resilience of those whom I have grown to trust and as a result hold so dear. My second year as an elementary principal has been a year of all the extremes and in-between. Yet, there is nowhere I find myself longing to rather be. The quote gives me a needed moment to remember the sweetness of the “breathtakingly beautiful” ordinary life. My transition from secondary education to elementary education and a classroom to administration again not a running from but a running for decision.

As a part of my marathon training, I completed the Montana Half Marathon. Unlike my typical 5 AM training runs race day left me running in much warmer temperatures. However, as was my goal, I concentrated on maintaining a manageable heart rate and consistent positive attitude. For once, I didn’t fixate on the time on my watch, but instead paced myself on how I felt. When I needed to slow down, I did and when I felt good, I picked up the pace. This is a goal I need to carry into all elements of my life, but running was the safest entry point. My only goal for the half this year was to finish somewhere under 2:30 as opposed to stress about a per mile pace. As a result, for one of the first times since running Santa to the Sea in 2013, I had fun and noticed things along the way that I would have missed hurried to reach the finish line. I thanked volunteers, took pictures, stood in multiple sprinklers and visited with other runners along the way.

Looking through my race memories from earlier years, I found one my sister captured from my full marathon in 2018.

I remember being so excited to have passed mile marker 20 and then when I saw Emma on the course my heart melted. This year, Court and Emma leap frogged me along the way as they were also helping to cheer & pit crew for another friend. I knew they would be on the course, but my heart still skipped each time I would round a corner and see them.

The similar nature of the snapshots over the span of the years reminds me to “breathe in the amazing.” I particularly like Emma’s shadow in the 2nd photo and mine in the first. If I was craftier, I think it would be fun to overlay them so our shadows could run towards one another. At mile 11 of this years half, I did the rough math and realized I needed to really pick it up if I was going to make my overall time goal. I wouldn’t be able to slow down, and walking and sprinkler stops would have to be forgotten. The heat had caught up to me a bit and my legs were cramping. As I neared mile 12, I found Court and Emma, my faithful pit crew, waiting on the corner of someone’s front yard. I shouted “I need some salt.” The woman whose yard they were standing on the corner of shouted back, “Salt? I have salt” and sprinted into her house baby on her hip and all. Courtney and I looked at each other, a bit unsure of what to do. I asked “I guess I should wait?” Moments later she returned with both a shaker and a blue can of Morton’s – of which I dumped a bit into my water bottle, said thanks, and kept going. Her attitude and assistance perfectly capturing the spirit of running and those who cheer us on along the way. In the end, I missed my goal time by only 48 seconds, but I wouldn’t change any of the 48 seconds I took remembering to breathe and enjoy the moment in the mileage.

Courtney and I celebrated eighteen years of marriage this month. We met in Missoula twenty years ago and our first dance at our wedding was to Rascal Flatts “Bless the Broken Road.” One could say our training route has had a few bumps, but it is blessed. I joke about wanting to add up the miles we have traveled and literally run together to become the couple we are for each other as well as the parents we are now for Emma and we were to Josh while he was with us. Yet, I know it isn’t the overall number that matters but each of the moments – the awful, ordinary, and amazing – that we have remembered to breathe.