I can hear you clapping.

There was a time not too long ago when I could pick the tenor of my grandfather's clap out of a crowd of basketball parents or field hockey parents and even on the cross country course. It was methodical, never over-excited or anxious, and as steady and consistent as a sunrise; deep and loyal but subtle like his compliments, that clap never missed a game, match or meet. 

In the years since his passing, that sound has faded but still resides out there in the open space between my childhood and my today.  His clap is in the crowd of a race; behind me as I start a long run; pushing me on rainy mornings; and constantly reminding me that, even when thirty feels like thirty, I have not yet lost my edge.

On September 24, 2011, I struggled through every bit of 16 miles.  It was not a great run.  In fact, it was ugly, painful and ultimately not something I wanted to share with anyone.  Although I completed this training block, I can only liken its defeat to missing one of two shots from the line in the last seconds of your last game as an eighth grader at UTMS and going on to end your middle school "career" on a miss [not that things like that should still bother you at 30...]. 

As mile 15 of 16 announced itself, I was empty and consumed with angst about the next 7 weeks and the Marathon waiting for me at the end.  I let my thoughts run so far afoul in that instance, that I actually questioned not just whether I would get 16 that day but whether I would cross the finish line of the Philly Marathon without stopping/walking/puking/crying/fainting or any combination thereof.  Some would say that by mile 15.6 of 16, I was in the middle of an actual meltdown more focused on the big picture than the task at hand. 

And then there was the clapping at mile 15.75.  Just as the Art Museum came into view and the last hill was behind me, 20 geese flew overhead, wings clapping the entire time, and he was there.  Just as he was at the final turn of my last cross country meet, in the last 20 seconds of my final high school basketball game, as I ran the length of the field hockey field for the last time, he was there clapping and screaming at me to stop being such a girl and just run. 

So I ran.