Not Quite the Penn Relays; but Close.

Franklin Field is the University of Pennsylvania's stadium for, well, everything, including graduations, lacrosse, touch football, cricket and the upcoming Penn Relays.  It was built for $100,000 and dedicated, in 1895, for the first running of the relays that have become a cornerstone in any young track athlete's life.  It was formerly the home of the Philadelphia Eagles, housed Penn's first baseball field and provided the backdrop for FDR's acceptance of the 1936 Democratic Party's nomination for a second term as president. It is rarely, if ever, open to the public and never, ever, open when I sprint past it at 5:00AM on Winter mornings.  Until the day it was.

It was early-March and I was on the last long (18 miles) run of my impromptu marathon training.  It was dark, cold and, quite frankly, miserable.  I'd already been around the Art Museum, through Graduate Hospital, around an ever-growing Toll Bros. development and a power plant that's a little beautiful and a little scary in its size and simplicity.  I'd gone up Spruce to 48th, come back down to CHOP's hidden city, stopped to stretch back there in the scrubs-clad world the hospital creates, and set back out again up Locust to 48th and back down toward Franklin Field's beacon at the bottom of the Penn hills.  And, just like that, coming around a blind curve and barely awake at Mile 15, I realized the gates were open.

Not only were the gates open but there was no one around because it was, after all, barely dawn and 35 degrees.  Initially, I ran past the gates and only stared inside, afraid to break any rules.  That lasted about 45 seconds because I realized I would never be back in this moment again and so I decided to live it.

Crossing through those huge iron gates and onto hallowed track lanes, I ran a lap with the sun coming up, completely alone with my footfalls and my breath.  On that quarter mile, I was an 8th grader trying hurdles for the first time; a 1st grader losing to her best friend at a fun run; a Sophomore puking before the 4 x 400 relay; and a Senior walking off for the last time without looking back.  The crunch of my feet on the last turn brought me back to the majesty of my surroundings and with a kiss to the sky, I passed back through those gates to complete my run and tuck the memory down into my gym bag for the next time.

Team.

Some people create with words or with music or with a brush and paints.  

I like to make something beautiful when I run...

-Steve Prefontaine-

I have not been a part of a team since 1999.  But I am now. One month into the season and I'm certain of only one thing: something put me here; I did not choose it.  I was drawn by something greater than mentorship; greater than my own sense of belonging; greater than a charitable environment and the appeal of a truly athletic organization; truly, I was drawn to the idea of how beautiful a team can be if it's done right.  And as far as I could tell, no one was doing it better in this city than Students Run Philly Style.  It is in this way, perhaps the most profound way, that this organization has re-prioritized  me and set my feet back firmly on the ground moving in a completely new direction.

And so I sit and plan practices.  I make homemade Lara Bars and send the recipes home to parents.  I review a nine month training program and swallow my own fear.  I listen to concerns and show appreciation and praise where it is due.  I lend support.  I show up Mondays and Wednesdays at 3:15 in a schoolyard and Saturday mornings down by Boathouse Row.  I stretch in a circle, counting to ten on the left and then again on the right. I recite RICE to anyone with an injury. I make announcements and listen to others.  We discuss a route and then shout it out together: "Left Queen, Left Front, Left Spruce, Left  Sixth!"  My voice no longer stands alone.  And as we conclude each run, hands in the middle, one on top of the other, all in - "Go Meredith," my mind finds the reaction of the first person I told about my acceptance as a Leader this season and I smile, agreeing, "...these are the experiences that form and shape the person you will become."

There is something beautiful right there, in the conclusion of those early practices - in those early miles, created by a team spirit embracing an individual sport.  The beauty is in one of the fastest boys on the team doubling back to run in with the slowest that day; the grace is in the changing strides of the younger kids; the confidence is in straightening backs, relaxed shoulders and lightly falling feet; the courage is getting out of the car when you don't know for a fact you can finish a run; the effort is going farther than the practice before; and the respect is for the team as a single, functioning unit.

It is because running re-purposed my life, that I found this place.  And it is because I found this place, that I am able to see that beautiful is not always conventional. And so I'll run on knowing that sometimes just showing up and caring creates the something beautiful that I would like to leave behind.