For TJ and Morgan
River Tam: I do. But I like to hear you say it.
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: Love. You can learn all the math in the 'Verse, but you take a boat in the air that you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. Makes her a home.
River Tam: Storm's getting worse.
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: We'll pass through it soon enough.
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Last winter I trained for my first marathon. I kept the momentum going from the half I ran in the Outer Banks that November. Over January and February, my mileage spreadsheet cataloged the long runs inching into new territory, up from 13 to 17 to 20.
In training, I love these runs most of all. After an hour or so, reality shifts. I actually feel myself existing in four dimensions, a set of coordinates moving through space and time. Thoughts and feelings behave differently, they take on substance. Some rise from the deep, bubbling slowly to the surface, only to pop with the shock and awe of revelation; others subtly slide into view from afar to be observed and contemplated.
And after even longer still, everything quiets. And then God shows up.
In the slant of the sun through the pine trees. Appearing with the bluebirds alighting on the fence posts along the Reedy Creek Trail. In the wind dragging through the live oak trees in Kure Beach’s Fort Fisher.
Somewhere in those four months, a prayer becomes by long run mantra.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
The spreadsheet, predictable math; the mantra, a constant.
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I see the 22 mile flag flapping lazily in the grey of that spring Sunday. My whole body is aching, but my face is breaking into a huge grin. My mantra fades away and my brain breaks into sweet song.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…
I raise my hand and slap it as I run by.
….that saved a wretch like me…
The whisper of my feet on the gravel, the dried salt on my lips.
….I once was lost, but now am found…
I wave at the half marathoners going the opposite direction. “You’re doing great!”
….was blind, but now I see.
I exit the American Tobacco Trail for the final two miles. I have been running for almost four hours without stopping.
The wind is whipping up the skies even more out here from under the trees and I smell rain. I trudge up the last hill and at the top, they wait.
“Oh my god I see her!” my mother screeches.
“There she is! You got this baby girl!” TJ has fulfilled his end of the casual bargain we made months prior when we first met.
I don’t stop; I can’t stop. They start running with me, but my mother quickly falls behind. TJ keeps talking in my ear.
“You’re almost there. The finish line is just ahead. You look great!”
I don’t feel great. My vision is going a little wonky. I tell him to keep talking to me, and then I gasp: “Is that it?! Is that the finish line?” I have seen a smear of blue out of the corner of my left eye.
He laughs, it is rich and warm and golden.
“No, honey, that’s the kid’s playground.”
He steers me down the last quarter mile, I throw on my last bit of energy to finish strong.
My friends are there. I see Glenna and I burst into tears.
I can’t stop repeating: I did it.
And then, as I ring the bell for first timer runners and those celebrating PRs: Thank you.
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A little over a week ago, we returned from Jamaica. For five days, we had bathed in the sun and gentle waters of the Caribbean, in slow time shared together and meeting new friends. It is December 22nd and we are heading home to celebrate Christmas.
Morgan lays her head on my lap to watch videos while I read and TJ paces the airport floor, slightly impatient with the delayed departure. I, too, am ready to be home; for the moment, though, I enjoy the lingering smell of sunscreen on my skin and the warmth of her head on my legs.
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Calm skies and seas as we welcome 2015.
My hope for you is the same for myself: may we all be leaves on the wind - and free from worry of where we may go.
