Media 5 Miler, 2011

Not since the Tyler Arboretum Trail Run (10K, Annual, April) has a course so beat me, broke me and built me.

The heat, the hills and the Friday night happy hour crowds force focus that's often fleeting at 7PM after a long work week.  The inclines are steep and quick and lined with house parties complete with kids, signs, water balloons, high-fives and, well, happy hour.  At times, this was empowering and at others simply a life saver (If I could somehow find the house that had the hoses out front pointed at runners like a beautiful rainstorm, I'd send you a fruit basket, wonderful people).  Although, I must admit, there was a woman, in a sundress, immediately after a water station and at the base of the hill that would come close to breaking me, that was swirling a glass of wine; a glass of wine that I came within inches of grabbing from her and pounding on the spot.  Aside from that small daydream, however, the focus stuck.

On this run - in this race - I was struck by the community of runners and that which surrounded them.  This was a force running through neighborhood after neighborhood in a giant embrace by its surroundings.  The generosity of the cheering around me was only mirrored by the kindness of the runners next to me.  Just after mile 1, my shirt came off and, along with it, the neon orange tough mudder headband I wear in every race for luck as much as a reminder of one of the hardest and best days of my life.  I made the decision not to turn around for it and immediately had a pang of regret.  Thirty seconds later, an older male runner came up along side of me and handed me the headband.  Such a simple moment among runners will not soon be forgotten.  And so that headband is back where it belongs with yet another story linked to its brilliance.

After 2 loops, 38 minutes, 18 seconds and 3 bottles of water, I can finally say I started to appreciate you, Dear 5 Miler, and I can assure you I'll be back next year and every year after that I'm fortunate enough to have the legs to make it up those hills - if only to see each and every smile of accomplishment that crosses your finish line and lights up.