By Catherine L. Stevenson
I had the honor to run in the 6th annual Pat's Run today. It was a race that my husband had pushed me to sign up for at the last minute...and I wasn't overly excited to run in it. I have this competitive spirit and whenever I feel less than 100% prepared, I prefer to sit out and prepare to be fully ready for the next race.
After getting less than 5 hours of sleep this morning, I found myself standing in the porta potty line @ Pat's Run at 620AM, inching my way forward before my bladder would pop. My husband had taken off to go check in our bag, while I was in line, when I realized that my Ipod was in this backpack. I asked a woman in line that we had been talking to during the line inching process to hold my spot...and I went to find Eli. Given the 28,000+ participants, I couldn't find him...
So I got back in line and was hopeful that Eli would remember to take my Ipod out of the bag. Here I was, 10 minutes before the race would start, waiting in line fidgeting with the combination of needing to using the bathroom and thinking what I would do without my Ipod. My usual routine 10 minutes until start would be playing with my Ipod Shuffle to ensure I had the perfect "start line song" ready to go.
At that moment, I'd dropped my race number that I was holding in my hand, and a guy with a pleasant smile behind me, in this fabulous porta potty line, had picked it up to give back to me.
I said, "thank you" and given my Ipod-less moment, I started to talk to the 2 men. I noticed the 2 men were in the Army by the patches on their shirts. They were telling me how they came from San Diego for the race. One of the young men mentioned that he would be running in the Coronado Bridge 4 miler in a few weeks, then the Rock 'N' Roll Half Marathon in June. His friend said that he had just finished in a 240 mile 5-man relay in Cali. I was so impressed with the dedication to running these 2 friends had together, and at the same time, felt a very unassuming energy to them. Both men were very much gentleman, humble and held a different demeanor than most young men I'd come across that were around my age.
I saw one of the guy's motion where he leaned back a bit and I couldn't help but look down to notice that these 2 friends, these 2 men that were no older than 27, each had a prosthetic leg...The moment spoke for itself and I smiled, thanking them for their service, and wishing them the best in all their races.
I made it to the restroom, Eli came back with my Ipod, and we were off to corrale 3 to start the race.
About 800 meters into the race, my Ipod decided to go out on me. I ended up, for the first time in my running history, music-less.
As soon as the Ipod went out, the diversity, camaraderie, dedication, and humility of the day suddenly became very apparent. In front of me, alongside me, behind me--2 boys that were about 7 years old running side by side with matching "42" shirts they'd made; next to me I had a veteran with all prosthetic arms and legs; behind me was a teenage girl I'd met that had less than 2 hours of sleep because she was up all night for the Relay for Life that ended the morning of this race.
To think that I almost didn't come to Pat's Run because I was consumed with the finish line results: my preparation that was not 100% where I wanted it to be and a fear that my time wouldn't be 'good enough.'
It is in these humbling, defining moments when I'm able to interpret a few of the mantras of life I've come across the past several years that I've sought to understand, but in truth, only were empty words to me.
I will remember today as a moment when I understood that (1) Happiness is a journey and not a destination (2) Events happen beautifully, gracefully when you allow them to.
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