Running Home

It is a gorgeous day in Los Angeles, the sun just cresting over the San Gabriel Mountains; the last day before we head back to Texas for the summer.  I am running hard, my feet moving quickly on the trail, my eyes focused on the ground in front of me.  At mile four, my breathing is like a metronome: in, out, in out, regular and constant.  Not another soul in sight, I am completely alone, but do not feel afraid, I realize quite unexpectedly.  I’m not afraid. How long has it been since I was without fear, if ever?

It has been five years since I decided to really run, when I made my announcement at the dinner table that I wanted to be a competitive runner, a decision that changed the course of our lives’ dramatically.  Since then we have travelled the world, visiting places we never dreamed we would see.  We have faced death, both physically and spiritually, gratefully coming out on the other side.  We have made choices that would never have occurred to us before.  We are different people today than yesterday.

I run up a hill, my breathing getting deeper, my legs working harder, my calf muscles pulling.  The hills are never easy.  I keep repeating my mantra: the hills make you stronger, the hills make you stronger. I know the only way to keep getting better is to attack the hills, to not be intimidated, to run every step.

The self-doubt still creeps up sometimes: Am I crazy?  Am I doing the right thing?  Have I ruined everyone’s life because I felt compelled to run, to try a different life, to get off the beaten path?   Will I ever know?

Home is here now, in Los Angeles, most of the time, my kids deciding to skip Middle and High School and go straight to college.  As odd as this sounded to me at first, I realized I could not chase my dream and not let my children chase theirs’.  Going to college early was their dream, and it never occurred to them that it wasn’t an option.  They found a program, got themselves accepted, and now it was my job to “crew” for them.  As much as I wanted them to stay on the “normal” path, I had to accept that I was the one who had pulled them off it; I was the one who pulled our whole family off it.  What did I expect?

We do so many things in life that have unintended consequences.  But if I am going to trumpet the value of a “life less ordinary”, then I have to honor it in others’ decisions and dreams as well.  I have to walk the walk, even if it scares me, even if it means spending most of my time 800 miles away from my picket fence and my hometown.

Now, when I am not taking care of my kids, or running twenty miles, I am speaking to groups, and training others.  It is life very different than the one I had expected when I graduated from law school, when I became a stay-at-home mom, even from when I ran my first race.

I hit a rock and stumble forward, righting myself quickly before I go down.  My thoughts go back to the trail, to the ground, and the moment in front of me.  Right now, nothing else matters.  This is where I am supposed to be at this moment.  I am only four miles into a twenty mile run.  I have to stay focused.  Later, I might be doing something entirely different.  But for now, I only need to finish the trail and run home.