Chapter 10 The reunion

Chapter 10 
The Reunion

By July, Esther was ready for her reunion. She looked great. She came over with her two daughters wearing the new outfit she bought for the reunion. As the three of them stood there in their matching new summer skirts, light shirts, and sandals, Esther beamed. She looked like a young girl showing off her new outfit for the first day of school. It was more than the outfit or even the new figure; it was a look of confidence. As the girls showed off their new outfits and chatted excitedly, I could tell they were proud of their mom. As Esther left, I wondered if she would quit running when she got back from her high school reunion in Arizona—that was the reason she signed up for the marathon. Her schoolmates were definitely going to be impressed.

While Esther was in Arizona for her reunion, I planned on visiting my sister, Sara, in Central Utah. She lived on five acres in a small community called Hideaway Valley, which pretty much describe the place—it was hidden in the middle of nowhere. After three hours in the car and three hours of the kids saying, “are we there yet?” and “Mom, he’s touching me.”, we reached the turn off where we continued five more miles on a dirt road. The terrain consisted mainly of sagebrush and cedar trees. When we pulled up the driveway the kids bolted from the car when they saw their cousins.

Sara had seven kids, and my kids loved being part of the wolf pack—Wolf was my sisters last name, and they reminded me of a pack of wolves today as they ran to meet each other and then disappeared through the trees followed by two big dogs, Blackie & Fat Dog—that was their names. Sara was more practical than I was, so now you know exactly what the dogs look like—Blackie was a black lab, Fat Dog was overly large a yellow lab.

As I approached the log cabin, Sara came out on the porch to meet me and help me with my bags. I fit right underneath her arm as she hugged me. Five inches never felt like a big difference except on certain occasions like this. Her long hair was tucked behind a red bandanna that was on her head—like how our mother used to wear it when we went camping folded into a triangle and tied underneath her hair on the back of her neck, her bangs tucked underneath, and the point of the triangle hanging over the back of her hair.

During Sara’s high school years she was quite refined. She colored her hair blond with heavy bleached highlights, she was always made up, and dressed very stylish, but now she was a totally different person. She lived on five acres and enjoyed working in the yard and in the garden. She was always busy with some project. There was the chicken coop and the rock pathway that lead to a secluded sitting area with a bench she had made herself. She let her hair go its natural dark sandy blonde color. She was dressed in old Levis and a worn tee shirt, with no make-up on, but she was still strikingly beautiful and especially to me because she was my best friend and my little sister.  

It was always good to see her, and it was nice to get away from the hot St. George heat for a weekend. We visited, hiked around with the kids, and caught up on everything that had happened since we were last together. I told her about the marathon and the training. She was encouraging and proud of me even though she had no desire to ever run one herself. I told her I’d be running seven miles tomorrow.  I didn’t dare take a vacation form my training especially not from the long runs. She said, “Have fun.” It was her way of letting me know she wouldn’t be joining me.

 I wasn’t looking forward to running alone. I liked having someone to talk with as I ran.  It made the time fly by and took my mind off my aching joints. I had gotten to know the four ladies I trained with well. We shared some pretty personal information about our private lives—more than any of our husbands would have felt comfortable about. We shared our frustrations, our triumphs and our sorrows. It was therapeutic. These ladies would be my friends for life.

The next morning the alarm went off for a while before I finally realized where I was and what was going on. It was 6:00 a.m., but it felt more like 4:00. Sara and I had stayed up way too late laughing and giggling. I felt like I had a hangover. After I got ready, I sluggishly drug myself up the stairs and stood on the porch for a few minuets still trying to wake myself before I began to stretch. When I bent down to touch my toes I was startled by a big black nose right next to mine. Fat Dog wagged his tail as I scratched him underneath his neck. “You gunna come with me, Huh boy,” I said in a high-pitched whisper. Fat Dog wagged his tail even harder and headed down the concrete stairs off the patio and then turned and looked as if to say. “Come one, come on!” like a little kid headed to the park.  I met him at the end of the sidewalk. “Let’s go boy,” I said as I broke into a slow jog. As we headed down the road, Blackie came running and the two dogs playfully nipped at each other and barked before settling into a nice pace by my side. I patted Blackie on the head, “Good boy.”

It felt good to have the dogs by my side. They would run off when they heard a noise in the brush, but would eventually return by my side, and I would pat them on the head. Sara had told me about the loop.  It was nearly 2 ½ miles. Three times around would be about right. Fat Dog was falling behind when we again reached the house on the first loop. He left my side and headed for the porch. He was done. They didn’t call him Fat Dog for no reason.

Blackie kept going as we began the second lap. “Good boy,” I reassured him as I patted him on the head again. He no longer ran after noises in the bushes and just kept a steady pace at my side. I don’t know why but his being there somehow seemed to help keep me going—like some kind of shared energy in the rhythm of our pace pulling us along. As we neared the house for the final lap, Blackie headed for the porch where Fat Dog laid near a rustic looking chair made of twigs; the seat of the chair was covered by a brightly colored cushion my sister had made. Fat Dog lifted his head and looked like he was going to get up but didn’t. Blackie playfully nipped at Fat Dogs mouth showing off his energy. Fat Dog growled with authority showing Blackie who was boss. The scene looked so inviting—the porch, the comfortable chair, the dogs. I could imagine myself sitting there with a good book and enjoying the fresh morning air. I had to stop my mind before I gave in. There was no one there to encourage me or keep me going—not even Blackie.  “One more lap,” I said to Blackie just above a whisper. “Come on, you can do it,” I pleaded.  He just looked at me as if to say, “No way, you crazy human.”  I pushed the temptation to stop and turned my focus to the road ahead of me. I needed to get going. As I headed down the road, I heard Blackie running to catch me, and soon he was by my side for the final lap. I smiled.  “Atta boy,” I said as I patted him on the head.

The weekend went by way to fast. Neither I nor the kids were ready to head back to St. George. Luckily, the kids were tired and slept most of the way home making the drive go by pretty quick. I enjoyed the peace and quiet so much that I wasn’t even tempted to turn on the radio. I just enjoyed the scenery of each small town and the beauty of the countryside as it passed by my window.  

Mondays were always the shortest run of the week. I always expected it to be easy, but it never was.  The three-mile run on Monday was harder than the long run on Saturday. The only reason I could come up with was that on Monday, my body still recovering from the long Saturday run. I started to dread Mondays more than the long runs; however, this Monday was a little different. Esther was on my mind. I wondered how her reunion went. Would she even show up today?  I figured there was a less than 50 percent chance she would. The words she said when she signed up for the marathon still stuck in my mind, “I don’t know why I’m doing this. I’m just wasting $45 because I’m not going to do it.” And now that her reunion was over, what was the point?

When I arrived at Esther’s house, she was just coming outside. I half expected her to be in her pajamas, but she was not. She was dressed and ready to go. I could hardly believe it. As we pushed through our Monday morning training, I enjoyed hearing about how much Esther enjoyed her reunion. She looked great and felt great. She said she ran her 7-mile while she was there. Her sister followed her in a car. Her commitment and perseverance inspired me. Esther’s excitement and energy bounced around the group like a ball in a pinball machine. Mondays were usually hard, but not today.  

In the beginning, Esther and Jolene did not tell anyone about signing up for the marathon because they weren’t sure they were actually going to do it.  But slowly and carefully they leaked out the news.  When their new goal was out in the open, people encouraged them and praised them—they genuinely wanted them to achieve their goal. “How’s the training going?” they would ask, “how many miles are you up to?’ Their friends and family shared in the excitement and marveled at every milestone. Now it was almost impossible to quit. They couldn’t imagine telling people, “Well, I quit.” They just couldn’t bear letting their friends and family down and themselves as well. People admired them—I admired them. I watched them push through the pain and keep coming back for more. Jolene found a good pace that was relaxed and steady. Her breathing was not as labored or intense as it had been when we started, and Esther kept running even when she looked like she couldn’t go another step.

For Esther it was no longer about impressing her high school friends. At some point, that changed. It wasn’t about proving something to someone else anymore, it was about proving to herself that she could do this—she could do amazing things that were both scary and hard.