Second: Mostly Nuts...

So you know how when you open that big five pound bag of trail mix from Costco and you have a handful, and then you slowly realize all you’re really doing is picking out all the m’n’m’s and setting aside the red and brown ones because those are the best ones and only eating the chocolate pieces?? Wait… is that just me then? Ok… well… this is a little awkward.

OK. So I’ve had my one handful and I’ve been picking out the little chocolate pieces (seriously red and brown, people). And I’ve been sort of recovering. I’ve run. And then I get in the car and travel to Oregon. Portland to be exact: the land of rain, coffee, books, hipsters. It’s like the freaking capital. I am beyond excited to enjoy one large hearty cup of Stumptown coffee in the morning, let me tell you. But that story will be saved for a later post. Too good to be true is all I have to say about that. I landed in an episode of Portlandia. I could write for the show I swear. Maybe a business venture I might need to look into.

 I must have missed the memo though, and the party for that matter. I ended up downtown with some of my Spokie teammates, but waiting to be picked up by my Hood to Coast teammates, I eventually learned I must call a cab and get to the party as soon as possible. So this was how the weekend was going to go, huh??

Anyways- roll up in the misting sky and realize that I was tired. Just flat out. I needed sleep. Bad. I don't know if I could have handled anything. I was sleepy and hungry. We were supposed to be running 198 miles between the twelve of us the next day. And the night was still young for all these folks. You live and you learn?

There was so much going on I felt like sensory overload. I had no idea who anyone on my team was, just meeting them for the first time. All I wanted to do was get to the beach. I was afraid I wouldn’t run fast enough, I was afraid I wouldn’t run slow enough on my first leg and conserve for the rest of them, I was afraid of being afraid.

heino's flyers 2013

I’m tired of being afraid. That’s what I learned this go around. I learned I was tired and sick of being afraid of everything. Of not being happy.

So I chose to race. And run with heart and fire. Every time I got that wristband I ran. I felt the passion building once more in my veins and flowing through. I had almost forgotten what that was life before. I forgot that taste of pennies and blood in your mouth as you breathe deep, forcing the yuck from your lungs, fighting for fresher air.

Of course my legs didn’t like it. A year ago, I was a good deal lighter and fitter, so it was ok to think that I would be a good deal slower. I just wasn’t in shape.

But I made it happen. I put my feet in front of the other and just flat out made it happen. And you know what was exciting and fun? So did the rest of Van One. They just caught the fire and we went after it. We flew. Heino’s Flyers killed it.

VAN ONE VAN ONE VAN ONE!

van one

celebrate with beer. obviously.

chicken legs. 

bubblebutts. 

And although there were moments I had no clue how to react, or what to say, or how to deal, I just got out of the van and ran. Yes, that rhymes. No I did not do it on purpose. 

I let my mind float to days far away in the past. To runs spent in silence and in laughter and in love. And days where runs turned to tears and aches and pains. But here I could just run. I let my anger run. I let my tears and hurt run. I let my joy run. That’s really the only thing that kept me going. I learned it was all in my hands. 

It was my choice.

Well gosh darn it to heck.

I choose the m’n’m’s. Especially the red and the brown.

I choose the run. 

we run spokane. 

 Just so you know—I ran faster on my second two legs this year than the same ones last year… So there is hope, I tell ya!