Chapter9
The Wisteria Bush
Mara printed off the training
schedule she had gotten off the Internet and gave it to Esther and me. The
schedule was for five months and started off with three miles three times a
week and increased to 10 miles about half way through. The most we would run
before the marathon would be 20 miles and that would only be one time. Lindsay,
who was way more experienced than any of us, thought the schedule was too easy
and would not prepare us adequately for the marathon. He thought we should be
at 10 miles sooner, but Mara swore by the schedule. We decided to go with
Mara’s schedule. She assured us we would be fine.
My alarm went off at 5:45 am. It was
still dark and my body felt like a big bag of sand. I had been so excited the
night before. It had seemed like such a great idea to get started early but not
so much right now. Chad rustled a little, made a little moaning noise, and
rolled over. I could see the outline of his body in the dark with the covers
tucked gently under his arm. I snuggled in close behind him and gently put my
arms around him. His skin was warm and the bed was amazingly soft. It felt as
if everything was telling me not to get out of bed. As I released Chad and rolled
to the edge of the bed even the sheets seemed to be beckoning me to stay as
they brushed by my body as I began to rise. It was hard to resist the
temptation to just let my body fall back into the comfort of my warm bed.
It was silent and no one was awake but me. I quietly
got into sweats and a tee shirt and headed out the door. There was neither time nor desire to brush my
teeth or fix my hair. I slowly walked the few hundred feet towards Esther and Lindsay’s
house. Mara was just heading across the street when I arrived. I almost laughed
when I saw Lindsay. He was wearing silky short shorts that resembled the
American flag—red and white stripes on one side and white stars against a blue
background on the other. I hadn’t seen shorts that short since the eighties,
but then I hadn’t watched many races because apparently that was what the
runners wore—short shorts made of lightweight material. Lindsay’s bald head was
covered with a red bandanna much like a biker dude.
My attention was diverted by a white
Dodge Durango pulling into the driveway. A couple in their mid-thirties emerged
from the vehicle. Lindsay and Esther warmly greeted them and introduced them as
Greg and Jolene. Greg had dark hair and Jolene had blond hair that was in
braided pigtails. Greg was relaxed and friendly while Jolene seemed a bit
apprehensive. She admitted that she didn’t know what she was doing, “I can’t
run a marathon.” She joked with Esther. “I know, huh?” Responded Esther, “What
are we thinking?” The two of them giggled with nervous energy. Esther explained
that she had recruited Jolene right after Mara and I persuaded her to sign up
for the marathon. Esther said she wanted someone who wouldn’t leave her
behind—someone to give her support.
After stretching, Lindsay and Greg
took off and that was the last we saw of the boys. The four of us ladies
started out together chatting and marveling at our new goal to run the
marathon. Esther still wasn’t sure she was actually going to do it. She hadn’t
quite made up her mind that she really wanted, or even could, run the marathon.
For now, it was just a novel idea and a way to lose weight for her high school
reunion in July.
Jolene seemed a little unsure as well. She said she just wasn’t sure she could physically
do it. Jolene was very competitive by nature and had played all the sports in
high school. She was a sprinter and loved running fast—in “the day”, but that
was “BC—before children,” she had explained as she grabbed her stomach purely
amazed at the amount of extra weight she had gained over the years. She said
she needed to lose about 40 pounds, but that was just plain ridiculous. I don’t
know why we women think we need to look like we did in high school. It’s just
not healthy. But we do.
Jolene and Greg volunteered to help
at the marathon a few times. They were at the finish line at Vernon Worthen
Park to help the marathon racers. Jolene said it was inspiring. She said there
was just something about being there—some kind of energy that you could feel as
you watched the exhausted racers cross the finish line. Some runners were buoyed
up by the crowed and found strength they didn’t know they had while others
spent every ounce of energy they had and needed assistance. It never crossed
Jolene’s mind that she would someday be one of those runners she admired. She figured it would take more than she had
especially as she watched one runner puke all over Greg’s shoes.
That first day we were going to run
two miles. We had run past the two churches and just turned the corner on Sandia Road when
Esther said she was going to have to walk. Mara hoping to push her a little
further, pointed out the mailbox that was just about 400 yards away which was
the one-mile marker, but Esther just couldn’t do it and began walking. She was mumbling something under her breath, and
waved us on. She said to catch her on the way back. Jolene was jogging by my
side. She was breathing heavily. “Are you OK?” I asked. Unable to
answer she just nodded and continued on with her pigtails bouncing gently with
each stride.
We made it to the mailbox and headed
back. When we reached Esther, who had already turned around, she began to jog
next to Jolene. I pulled ahead with Mara and was able to keep up with her until
she decided to sprint the last half mile. I wondered if running with us was
going to be a challenge for her. Her goal was more than to simply finish the
race like the rest of us; her goal was to beat last years’ time. I doubted that any of the rest of us would be
close to Mara at the finish line.
Over the next several weeks, we had
worked up to a whopping five miles. Esther was able to make it without walking.
A new lady joined the group. Her name was Mona. Mara invited her to join us
when she heard Mona was training for the marathon alone. Mona was blond and very tan. She was in her
early fifties and was in good shape. She had come to love jogging after a very
painful divorce. As a single mom with six kids, she not only liked the exercise
time with her friends she needed it. She lost forty pounds in the process, but
what she gained was far more valuable—she gained friends, and confidence, and
it helped her keep her sanity. Now she is remarried and has only one kid left
at home. Mona had been running for several years, but this would be her first
marathon.
The five-mile loop took us up the Washington
Fields Road, around the Mesa, and back to the Washington Fields Road. I
preferred doing loops rather than going out and back by the same route—it took
out some of the monotony. It was nice running near the fields with the fresh
alfalfa growing and the view of Pine Valley Mountain in the distance. The fresh
air smelled good. I didn’t even mind the occasional scent of manure that came
from the nearby dairy farm. Five miles wasn’t too big of a stretch for me. I
had done that before when I lived in Heber and was running with a friend who
convinced me to run a 5K with her. That wasn’t my challenge; what was going to
be a challenge for me was what happened the Monday after the five-mile run.
Mondays were always the short run of
the week. Today we were scheduled to run
three miles. At 5:45 the alarm made its usual annoying buzzing sound. It seemed
like I had just gotten to bed. As I turned off the alarm, I noticed the
bathroom light was on. I rolled over to see the space next to me in the bed was
empty. Just then Chad
emerged from the closet completely dressed with shoes in hand. He seemed to be
in a rush as he sat down in the chair next to the bed and proceeded to put on
his work shoes. I was a little groggy and confused. Why was he up so early? Chad
had been going to work at 7:00 a.m. He was the one who was staying home with
the kids, but it did not appear that this was going to happen today.
“What are you doing?” I asked
bewildered and still a little dazed from just waking. “Oh….well,” he paused, “I told the guys we
were going to start work at 6:00 from now on.” He got to his feet and headed
out of the room completely oblivious to what I felt was the obvious. “Well,
what about the kids?” I said trying to keep my mounting anger in control, “and,
my run. I run at 6:00. You know that.” “Uh,”
he stammered only interrupting his haste to get out the door for just a moment.
“I know and I forgot to tell you,” He said apologetic, yet firm. “I have to
go.” “Well, I have to go too.” I tried
to stand my ground as I got out of bed and headed for the closet. He stopped and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said
softly, “but what do you want me to do? I have five guys standing around that
I’m paying ten dollars an hour. Do you want me to just stay home?” I could do the math. Five times ten was fifty
dollars—fifty dollars an hour. That was a lot of money. Money was always tight and especially now
since the bankruptcy and the move. My running was not making any money nor was
it benefitting anybody but me. I was so angry, but what choice did I have?
I stayed in my pajamas for most of
the day and moped around the house. I don’t know why all my energy was sucked
out of me and why I felt so depressed. I had no desire to do anything at all.
Missing one day of training wasn’t the problem; being pushed aside was. And
this wasn’t the first time. This was just one of my many ventures that got
squashed. I was always more than willing to give up on my passions and put
others first. I’m not saying that I’m some kind of a saint. I just felt that
was my job as a mother and a wife.
It reminded me of the wisteria bush I had in
Heber. I had fallen in love with the Wisteria bush when I saw it in a magazine.
It was pictured climbing up the porch of a cute cottage house. It was so
spectacular looking the way it climbed up the trellis. It had the most
beautiful purple blossoms that adorned the porch. It takes about five years for
the plant to get established before it really looks like much of anything. I
planted it near the front porch and babied it for three years. I pruned it and
fertilized it and staked it so it would wind its way up the porch. I was always
excited in the spring when new growth would appear. It wasn’t much, but I
imagined how beautiful the purple blossoms would look and smell in just a few
more years.
Then one spring, we decided to put in
a fireplace. Chad had his crew come over to lay the stone on the outside of the
house for the chimney. I asked Chad
to be careful of my little wisteria bush; without much conviction, he said he
would try. At the end of the week, the fireplace was magnificent. The river
rock looked great and added such a nice touch to our rustic home, but when I
noticed the broken stem and the green leaves that were smashed in the dirt, I
was heartbroken. Nobody even noticed. When
I brought it to Chad’s
attention, he explained that it was just so close to where they were working
and it would have been too difficult and costly to work around it. I suppose it
was just too small and insignificant. And, that was just how I felt right now.
I just couldn’t let this one go—I
couldn’t let this dream be squashed. When Chad got home from work, I told him
how much the marathon meant to me. I couldn’t make a good argument. It wasn’t going to help our family, it wasn’t
going to make any money, and it seemed just plain selfish, but I had set a
goal. I felt so good; I felt so alive. I
didn’t know why, and it really didn’t make sense, but I just had to do it. I
didn’t totally understand what I was fighting for. Perhaps it was like the wisteria bush. Maybe
there was more to me than even I realized. Maybe, God knew who I was and what I
was made of. He knew I was capable of great
and marvelous things that—that I had a purpose, and I needed to know that too. I
needed to know that I was not small and insignificant, and perhaps, just maybe,
I was worth a lot more than $50 an hour.
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