Training for the New York City Marathon allowed me to discover new things. “Things” is an entirely inappropriate, lackluster, and ambiguous word to use for describing anything, especially the people, the places, and the things I have met and discovered during those months. Before I get to the things, I will start with people, turn the corner to places, and in the distance spot the ever-enlarging view of things down the road.
People – For sake of cyber confidentiality, all names have been changed and in there place I hope to elaborate with details on qualities, personalities, and characteristics. Something I remember hearing from a young age when learning about the many relationships we will form with each interaction we have, no matter for how long or how short, was “you may not always remember their name, their face, or what you did with them, but you will always remember how they made you feel.” Now, I cannot remember the sage of which bequeathed such words onto me, but I know, knew at the time, and will continue to know the feeling of gratitude I have for them shaping my views of leaving a lasting feeling of positivity no matter their name, their face, or what I did with them.
Along my way, I remember fondly feeling welcomed each time by the woman at the farmers stand up route 125 past the organic garden, I will remember the joy of the little girl pulling at her moms coat after getting out of the car and saying, “Mommy, look at her go! She must be so chilly.” (It happened to be a rather brisk early evening). The woman at the Half Way Diner who brought us glasses of water, that literally was halfway on my training partner and I’s epic 20 miler that turned to a 23 (we decided this diner was a symbolic place to turn around as “Haven’t we been running for more than 10 miles? We have been running FOREVER! Let’s turn around there.” Post run and a little google maps action, we discovered we had missed our 10 mile turn around point and the diner was more 11.5 miles out. Good thing we didn’t keep going). To my running partner, a dear friend who had hoped to run the NYC marathon the year before. It being cancelled, he came to school ready to train again after tackling another marathon last fall in place of New York. We got each other through, well, as I can only speak for myself, he got me through those long runs on the afternoons where a nap seemed so much better. We dove into long talks that made the musicless run fly by faster than any amount of Turbulence on repeat. To all the wonderful Vermonters who graciously moved over while whisking by in car, diverting their path so we could continue on ours (I’m counting them as the 1.2).
Places – Morgan Horse Farm, the Meat Shake, the covered bridge, the Middlebury Farmer’s Market in Leatherworks, the Half Mile Diner, Porter Hospital (just running by…except for post marathon xrays…but that’s a different story…), the gas station at the junction of 125 and 22A, the first horse farm out past Porter, the little stretching spot in that farm’s horse pasture a little ways past that, the Middlebury Fishing spot.
Things – Cows, horses, sheeps, more cows, fuzzy bears (the furry caterpillars that always crawl onto the edges of the warm road. Endearingly named by my long-distance running buddy), the piles of hay wrapped in white plastic that look like giant mozzarella balls, the giant wolf spider the size of my palm (even on exhausted legs that caused me to run faster), the great blue heron that would fly away startled by a human disrupting its stillness, the road kill (deer, possums, skunks, snakes, foxes, porcupines, squirrels, fuzzy bears. RIP lovely creatures), the GU packets (necessary companions on long adventures), the beautiful golden lab that would always be lying in the same one last sun beam as the sun was setting, the sunsets over expansive fields of corn.
And there you have it, 26.2 things along the way. These nouns had yet to be discovered, truly discovered, until I laced up my running shoes and hit the ground, well, running. My own two feet carried me on an adventure of Vermont and an adventure of my own self through the journey. Taking on this challenge allowed me to explore the beauty around me and has excited me to continue this quest, soaking up every inch of nounery illustratively described through feelings, emotions, adjectives, and memories.
As a nonreligious but spontaneously spiritual person, I have always found solace in the words of this traditional Gaelic parting blessing:
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.