I recently achieved something I thought I’d never do – I completed not one, but two half-marathons within four weeks! It’s something I’m pretty proud of. And speaking of proud…
The first race, I ran with my amazing daughter, Annamieka.
“Mieka,”diagnosed in March 2005 with Hodgkins Lymphoma, was responsible for getting me into all this in the first place. She was asked to be the “honored teammate” for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society Team-in-Training. They were training for the Race for the Roses Half Marathon, to be held in Portland, OR on April 6th, 2008. Basically, the “honored teammate” is the team members’ inspiration to keep going. (“If she can make it through the rigors of cancer, I can run another mile.”) But Mieka being Mieka, her response was, “Well, sure, I’d be happy to be your honored teammate, but why don’t I just run it with you?”
She then called me, explained the situation and said, “So, mama, you wanna run a half-marathon with me?” I heard myself say, “Of course!”
It was one of those “what did I just say?” moments. But I told her, as long as my 53-year-old body seemed to be holding up okay, I’d be happy to train with her.
So, two months before the race, we began logging the miles. I’ve been doing pretty regular 2-3 mile runs for years, with a few 10k races thrown in, but never have I attempted running non-stop for over two hours! But, amazingly enough, one step led to another, muscles strengthened, toned…and ached…in places that were brand new to my awareness! I literally ran through rain, hail, sleet and snow…and occasional sunshine.
Mieka and I trained in different cities, so we’d support each other by phone. We’d call during training runs to say, “I’m at mile 9 and I’m hitting a wall here. So this next mile’s for you!” And the other would cheer, affirm and encourage in any way possible. My own mental mantra became, “I take the step that’s before me to take.” I would make my mind focus on something other than the thousands of steps left to take in that day’s run. “Light…loose…relaxed. Fit…trim…toned.” Beautiful countryside. New neighborhoods to explore. And by race day, I was actually feeling pretty darn good.
The night before the race, there was a “rah-rah” dinner. We carb-loaded, listened to some amazing cancer survivor/thriver stories, and then I led the team in a guided visualization of the next day’s race. By the end of the evening, Mieka and I were so excited that the energy just had to come out somehow!
Now, mind you, when my kids were little, I highly discouraged them from jumping on the beds at home, or in hotels, but hey….when your kid’s twenty-three, and strong and healthy enough now to be jumping up and down on a bed out of sheer joy and excitement, what’s a mother to do? Jump with her, of course!!
We jumped and whooped and laughed so hard we cried, and then collapsed on the floor to catch our breath and regain our maturity. (Well, sorta…)
The next morning was perfectly overcast and cool. We joined a lobby full of hyper-charged half-marathoners at 6am, then made our way en masse to the starting line.
Before we knew it, were being swept along in a river of moving bodies, barely noticing the first several miles we covered. At about mile nine, though, Mieka’s got a major cramp in her left hip flexor area, that sent her to the ground in severe pain. I massaged it for a few minutes, as Mieka cried tears of both pain and frustration – she’d worked so hard! She wanted to finish this race!
Fifteen minutes or so later, she said, “Let’s go. I can do this!” I helped her up, and we started off toward the finish line – still four long miles away. It was a classic scene, my 5’1” frame trying to hold up her 5’6″ one, her arm draped over my shoulder. But we limped along, her tears soon turning into laughter as we sang silly songs along the way. We were bouyed by all sorts of “Way to go – you can do it!” calls from other runners and from onlookers.
Her cramp gradually abated enough that she could return to a slow jog, and we did indeed eventually make it to the end. Hand in hand, and with gleeful smiles, we skipped our way across the finish line. We didn’t set any land speed records, that’s for sure. But the “personal best” we experienced that that day was the only reward we needed.
We both felt totally triumphant. I was so proud of Mieka who, having never been “a runner” in her life, had now completed 13+ miles, a third of them injured, and all of them with slightly compromised lung capacity as a result of her cancer. That, to me, is the definition of a winner.
***
Although she was too busy to join me, I decided to go ahead and keep training for the Eugene Half Marathon that was held on May 4th, just 4 weeks later.
Both Mieka and my son, Aaron, along with my dear friend Peggy, were there to cheer me on, 
hold up signs, and even run with me for short stints. Somehow one of the three of them seemed to always pop up right at those times when my legs felt like lead, and I began to think, “WHY am I doing this???!!” One time in particular, somewhere around the eleven mile point, I was really running out of steam, and I rounded the bend to see a big blue and white sign hanging from a pedestrian bridge over the running trail just ahead. As I got closer, I saw Aaron and Mieka were the ones holding it. Suddenly, I had a whole new burst of energy. (The photo, above, was taken just after the race.) I finished in a blaze of my own personal glory.
So what was my take-away from all this?
There were many lasting gifts from this whole training/racing experience. Along with the inspiration and encouragement from my loved ones, one lasting gift is the mantra I mentioned earlier – it was one of the main things that had kept me going on the overtired, overwhelmed days, in those moments when I felt like I wanted to just quit! Sometimes I felt like I must be nuts to think I could really do this! But then I’d remember,
“I take the step that’s before me to take.”
This simple affirmation has since carried over into my personal and professional life, and has truly made a difference in so many ways.
My never-ending to-do list, or a complex problem I’m facing doesn’t seem quite as daunting when I take a deep breath and simply remind myself: “I take the step that’s before me to take.”
I do what’s before me to do, in a relaxed and easeful manner. One step at a time. By being present with what is, I am able to handle each step along the way with considerably more grace and gratitude.
May grace and gratitude prevail for you as well, every step of your way.
Namaste.
