The morning of June 7 showed promise with only a few clouds in the sky and the sun peaking over the horizon. As I looked out my hotel room window, eating half a bagel with peanut butter and jelly on it, I wondered what the day would hold.
Jason, Mom, and I would be running the Governors Cup Marathon in Helena, Montana. I felt ready and excited, filled with hope that the route would take me out to the mountains I’d come to love during my time there.
The race started at 6:30 a.m. for the marathoners. We stood shivering and stretching in the 43 degree morning until the race director announced one minute before the start. Jason gave me the traditional three good-luck kisses before heading to the front, and for the first time, I could actually see my husband up there with the front runners. He was only three rows in front of me, as there were only about 135 marathoners racing that day.
The countdown began ten…nine… eight…GO! I ran with Mom for a few moments and we laughed at how stiff our legs felt in the cold morning air. Then she said good-bye and good luck as I turned on my ipod and prepared for what I knew would be a great race.
As we ran I couldn’t help but smile. Once I started moving, I warmed up and just as I’d hoped, the route took us through a few neighborhoods and then out to long country roads surrounded by mountains and farms. I felt like dancing. I felt like singing. I felt like throwing my arms in the air and shouting “THANK YOU, LORD!”
In my excitement I ran the first two miles at a nine minute pace and so I made myself slow down a bit, knowing I couldn’t hold that pace. The miles went by fairly quickly. At mile 7 a few half-marathoners passed me and I cheered for them. At mile 11 I saw my husband doubling back and we slapped hands as I said, “Looking good, Babe.” At mile 13 I looked at my watch and it showed two hours and thirteen minutes. I was pumped. I wasn’t exactly shooting for a personal record that day, but I hoped to finish somewhere in the 4:30s or 4:40s, and I believed I could.
The turnaround was at mile 15. I was beginning to tire and my feet were beginning to hurt, but that was nothing new. I smiled as the photographer took my picture and laughed as he said, “Almost there now! You’re heading for the barn!”
And then it all fell apart. I knew it was going to be windy once I turned around because I could feel the wind at my back, but I had no idea just how windy it was going to be. As I ran the wind picked up and gusts of 25-30 mph hit me head on. I saw Mom at mile 16. She asked me how I was and I said I’d been better. She kissed me on the cheek and introduced me to her new friend, Susan. We wished each other luck and ran on.
By mile 18 I wanted to cry, and I am not a crier. I’m a teeth-gritter and more likely to get mad before I get upset. I tried to dig deep and recall all the times I’d had to fight hard to run and how I’d overcome them. I remembered the marathon in New Jersey where the coastal wind fought me the entire way and how I’d become fed up and picked up my pace, fighting right back.
But the wind was harsh and cold and nothing my mind did could change that. Birds flapped their wings only to stay in place. Horses stood with their backs to the fences and any brush or trees in their yard. Race volunteers dressed in down jackets with hoods commented on how windy it was as I ran passed. And still the wind howled and gusted and pushed against me until each mile felt like hours of grueling work.
I tried to keep my heart light. I had hoped for another Kentucky Derby, another triumphant finish and a grand finale to what had been a fantastic week out west. I recalled the words I’d said to Jason about how this race was just for fun and that it didn’t matter how well or how poorly we did. Yet as I was running I realized that I had a certain definition for “poorly” and this was not it.
I looked at the mountains around me and tried to focus on the beauty there. It made my eyes water to look into the wind and when I tried to do more than granny shuffle, the wind knocked my feet together (making for some very sore ankles afterwards). I tried to eat some gummy life-savors, which I carried in a small sandwich bag, but they made me nauseous, so I stuck to water and powerade at the aid stations.
I watched as the minutes passed on my watch and couldn’t believe I was moving so slowly. I wanted to pick it up, but everything hurt, and I was cold and beaten. The wind flew at me so hard that it swept my breath away and I constantly felt like I couldn’t get enough air.
Half-way through mile 25 (the longest mile in the world) I saw Jason. I didn’t want to look as pitiful as I felt, so I tried to keep running (granny shuffle) so that when Jason saw me, he wouldn’t think I was hurt. When I saw him I was so ready to be done and so frustrated at the state of things that all I could say was “WHERE DO I GO?” The cones lead in both directions and the volunteers hadn’t seen me yet.
“Right up that hill.” Jason said. Up the hill? I thought. You’re kidding! But he wasn’t. The last mile was filled with downtown hills after an entire course of flat country roads. He jogged with me and then we saw Julie. She’d run the 5k and she too was beginning to wonder about her sister and her mom. I told her I had changed my mind about moving to Montana. I told Jason this was the longest mile in the world. He repeated an earlier statement that everything is bigger in Montana, even the miles. I didn’t smile, for that took energy.
The finish line was FINALLY in my sites and as the announcer called my name, I wanted to hide. “Here comes Jane Reneau from Madison, Alabama. How many marathons is this for you, Jane?”
I wanted to say one. I wanted to say this was my first. I wanted to say that it was supposed to turn out differently. I looked up and said weakly, “Fifteen,” and ran under the finish banner in 5 hours and 15 minutes.
I was given a medal and the chip was taken off my shoe. Jason gave me some water and I sat down out of the wind for the first time in 5 hours. I was disappointed and embarrassed. My face stung with wind burn and my legs and hips ached so badly that even sitting didn’t relieve them.
Jason, being the wonderful husband that he is, hugged me and told me he was proud. I laughed thinking, proud of what, but it helped to hear him say it all the same.
Mom came through the finish line 19 minutes later with her friend Susan, and I was relieved to see her. The four of us headed to the car, each of us reliving the agony that was 26 miles in such strong winds.
We ate hamburgers at a local restaurant and then we said our good-byes. Jason and I were flying out of Bozeman the next day to head home, while the rest of them drove back. Jason and I talked of the race during our drive to Bozeman, and even though I was sad and disappointed, I had to admit it was all worth it. I knew I couldn’t let the marathon define the week - and what a splendid week it had been!
I also knew I couldn’t let one bad race define me as a runner. Since the Kentucky Derby Marathon in April, I’d believed I was in a different time bracket and that a bad race for me wouldn’t exceed 5 hours anymore. I was wrong and that bothered me.
Even so, there will be other races, Lord willing, and there will be time to train for them. This runner will meet the road again, and when she does, she will be ready to not only smear her time in Montana, but in Kentucky as well. There are personal records to be made, and even in my healing and recovery, I am ready to work for them.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
There and Back Again
Glacier National Park
I became sad this morning as I drove to work. It was a balmy 90 degrees according to my car thermometer and the sky was a pale blue-ish white haze. When stopped at red lights, I glanced at the people in the cars beside me and wondered if their Monday felt as strange as mine. I wondered if they'd experienced adventures and beauty like I had and if they too found it hard to come back to traffic, heat, offices, and city life.
Saturday, May 31, Jason and I flew to Bozeman, Montana for a week long vacation out west. We arrived in Bozeman around 3:00 p.m. Mountain Time, picked up a white Toyota Highlander and hit the road for Glacier National Park. I'd made reservations at the Apgar Village to stay in one of their cabins, and I could not get there soon enough.
The drive took 6 hours, and I think I spent the entire ride with my face plastered to my window. Mountains rose up on both sides of the road and I wasn't sure whether I should look out my window or Jason's. I felt like the happiest, most blessed, freest girl in the whole world.
I couldn't help but think about Heaven and to contemplate what it would be like to be near the Creator of all the magnificence that surrounded us. And as cheesy as it sounds, I couldn't help but sing in my head the words to America the Beautiful as I looked at what I considered to be "purple mountains majesty."
We finally arrived at our cabin around 10:00 p.m. and the "creek" that our cabin was to overlook was more like a river to me. I shared this thought with Jason as he stuck his feet in and he said, "Everything is bigger in Montana."
The next morning Jason went for a run while I made coffee and plans for a day of hiking. As I stood in the shower washing off the travel grime, I realized I hadn't brought a hair dryer and there certainly wasn't anything like that in the cabin. There wasn't even a television or a telephone (which was fine with us). I did NOT want to spend a week with masses of wet hair in my way, so I did the only thing I knew to do. I found a pair of scissors and gave myself a trim…I missed some spots and got a little carried away in others, making it almost mandatory to wear a clip in my hair at all times. BUT I knew it would grow and at least it was off my neck for the week. That was all I needed.
After breakfast, Jason and I went to the visitor's center to get the lowdown on what we ought to do while in Glacier National Park. The girl we spoke to was very informative. She showed us the best trails to hike in West Glacier (where we were staying) and then said that even though the Going-to-the-Sun Road was closed in the middle (that is the road that goes right through the center of the park) it was worth a drive around the park to East Glacier to see the sites.
We spent Sunday on the Trail of Cedars which was a 2.2 mile trek to Avalanche Lake, which was a crystal clear lake with snow covered mountains surrounding it. The hike was perfect. The air smelled of cedars and everything green. It was raining when we started, but it quit before long, and just as the trail emptied us out onto the beach of the lake, the sun came out and warmed our chilly limbs. We sat on a rock looking at the mountains with the sun on our backs and the chipmunks at our feet (and our laps) and I was once again sure I was closer to the Creator than I'd ever been.
On Monday Jason and I had another delicious breakfast at Eddie's and then headed out for East Glacier. As we drove, the landscape started to change. Just as West Glacier had green rolling hills with snow capped mountains behind them, East Glacier took us higher so we were above the rolling hills and amidst the snow covered mountains and rocky cliffs. We literally could see forever in all directions, views of lakes in deep valleys surrounded by rolling hills and cliffs on all sides. I wanted the images to be seared into my mind so that I'd never forget, and we took tons of pictures, but I doubt they will capture the majesty and beauty that exists out there.
We hiked a small trail to Running Eagle Falls and then drove on to Saint Mary and hiked to Saint Mary falls and then even higher to Virginia Falls. It was a powerful waterfall and the spray from it was icy cold. Both Jason and I stood in the spray and when we turned away from it, our faces were dripping wet and frozen. My lips were so numb, I could hardly say how beautiful it was… but the words weren't really necessary. He knew. We hiked around a bit more, spotting mountain goats, Jackson Glacier, and other areas of interest on our map. We were cold and exhausted as we drove back to West Glacier for one last night in our cabin.
The next day we drove out of Glacier, stopping at the Hungry Horse Dam, and then through Idaho and into Wyoming. We stopped in Jackson Hole where we met up with Mom and Dad who had driven up, stopping in Colorado for Mom to run the marathon there.
Jackson Hole, Wyoming
The next day Mark, Julie, and the kids arrived (they drove from Huntsville) and that night we all went to the Bar J Ranch to eat supper and hear their group sing. They were real live cowboys with amazing talent. They sang cowboy songs like "Mariah" and "Raw Hide" along with a ton of others I'd never heard but loved immediately. They had us laughing until our stomachs hurt with their jokes and nonsense and as we left, I asked Jason if he'd buy a pair of those wrangler jeans. Mmmm. That night I decided if anything ever happened to Jason, I was moving to Montana to marry a cowboy. Preferably one of those singing that night with the legs that went on forever in those wrangler jeans.
Yellowstone
The next day we all loaded up and headed for Yellowstone. We drove by the Grand Tetons and into Yellowstone. We saw Old Faithful erupt and all sorts of hot, boiling pools nearby. At one point we came upon hundreds of buffalo and paused for a bit to watch them. Jason, Caroline, and I were in our Highlander, and the rest of the fam were in Julie's van. Well THEY got passed the nursing buffalo. We did not. Just as we were trying to follow the van back onto the main road, THREE Mamas with babies decided to feed… right there…in front of our car. This was neat for a while. But then there was some mooing and two mamas started to butt heads. I felt safe enough, but I wasn't sure what the rental car folks would say if we had to explain that our car was dented by buffalo… THEN, one buffalo hopped on the back of the other…I'm not sure of the genders, but all I have to say is I would not want to be on the bottom of that deal. Those guys are BIG!
Finally they all moved and I told Jason it was now or never. We scooted out of there and continued on our way. We saw tons of elk, goats, moose, buffalo, and even a black bear. I never grew weary of seeing the wildlife. I could have driven and hiked for days. Caroline and I decided that in Heaven, we would be able to pet all of these creatures.
Mom had booked some cabins in Mammoth Hot Springs in the park for all of us to stay that night. We were all worn out and glad to be there. We ate supper and headed to bed.
The Elk in Yellowstone
The next morning, when Jason got up to run, Mom and I got up to hike. Our cabins were right at the base of some of those mountains I'd been eyeing all week and I desperately wanted to feel Sound of Music-esque and run around up there. No singing, really. Just wandering.
So Mom and I took off. There were tons of elk up there and the morning was cold, misty, and quiet. Mom and I were quickly out of breath, hiking up semi-steep mountains at an elevation of 6,000 feet or so. We talked of what we'd seen and how gorgeous it all was. We found a path half-way up the mountain and had just begun to follow it when Mom spotted a baby elk sleeping in the grass. She began to move toward it until I warned her that Mama Elk was looking at her. Mom backed away and we continued up the mountain to the top where we stood on a rock and surveyed the splendor of the surrounding valleys.
Mom found a few rocks she liked and she picked up a few on the way down, handing me one to carry. I was a little wary of Mama Elk since her baby was so near, but I didn't think it was a problem when we finally reached her and she was way on the other side of the trail. WRONG!
Mom began looking for Baby Elk again, and I began looking over my shoulder for Mama Elk. Sure enough, over the hill she came. I yelled, "Mom, she's coming!" and dashed behind a tallish bush where Mama Elk and I had a face off. Elks are TALL and she looked well over my head. When she moved to the right, I moved to the left. My legs were shaking and I had no idea what she was going to do or what I was going to do for that matter.
Mom, however, was not afraid at all. She stood watching and told me to come on. "I'm not leaving these trees!" I said. "She's after me!"
"No she isn't," Mom said. "Come on."
Then, Mom made her way up to me, not to protect me, but to take the rock away from me so that I would not hurt the elk! I took one look at Mom (who was now between me and Mama Elk) and dashed down the mountain at breakneck speed. It had to have looked hilarious and later we laughed a lot over my panic, but at the moment I was scared to death.
Mom began to slowly make her way down the hill and Mama Elk began to come after her. I stood at the bottom with my hands to my face and watched as my mom faced down Mama Elk.
Mom turned around, put her hand out and said "STOP!" Mama Elk stopped. Mom turned to continue down and Mama Elk came again. Mom turned around again and said, "STOP! I am not after your baby!" Then she too ran down the hill to safety. Mama Elk looked on as we fled. Jason was just finishing up his run and with my heart still racing, I told him of our near-death experience. He laughed. Mom laughed. I couldn't believe them. I'd almost been eaten by an elk and they were laughing!
Heading for Helena
After my harrowing experience with the elk, we all took showers, ate breakfast and hopped back into our cars to head for Helena, Montana. The next morning (Saturday) Mom, Jason, and I would run the Governors Cup Marathon…
I became sad this morning as I drove to work. It was a balmy 90 degrees according to my car thermometer and the sky was a pale blue-ish white haze. When stopped at red lights, I glanced at the people in the cars beside me and wondered if their Monday felt as strange as mine. I wondered if they'd experienced adventures and beauty like I had and if they too found it hard to come back to traffic, heat, offices, and city life.
Saturday, May 31, Jason and I flew to Bozeman, Montana for a week long vacation out west. We arrived in Bozeman around 3:00 p.m. Mountain Time, picked up a white Toyota Highlander and hit the road for Glacier National Park. I'd made reservations at the Apgar Village to stay in one of their cabins, and I could not get there soon enough.
The drive took 6 hours, and I think I spent the entire ride with my face plastered to my window. Mountains rose up on both sides of the road and I wasn't sure whether I should look out my window or Jason's. I felt like the happiest, most blessed, freest girl in the whole world.
I couldn't help but think about Heaven and to contemplate what it would be like to be near the Creator of all the magnificence that surrounded us. And as cheesy as it sounds, I couldn't help but sing in my head the words to America the Beautiful as I looked at what I considered to be "purple mountains majesty."
We finally arrived at our cabin around 10:00 p.m. and the "creek" that our cabin was to overlook was more like a river to me. I shared this thought with Jason as he stuck his feet in and he said, "Everything is bigger in Montana."
The next morning Jason went for a run while I made coffee and plans for a day of hiking. As I stood in the shower washing off the travel grime, I realized I hadn't brought a hair dryer and there certainly wasn't anything like that in the cabin. There wasn't even a television or a telephone (which was fine with us). I did NOT want to spend a week with masses of wet hair in my way, so I did the only thing I knew to do. I found a pair of scissors and gave myself a trim…I missed some spots and got a little carried away in others, making it almost mandatory to wear a clip in my hair at all times. BUT I knew it would grow and at least it was off my neck for the week. That was all I needed.
After breakfast, Jason and I went to the visitor's center to get the lowdown on what we ought to do while in Glacier National Park. The girl we spoke to was very informative. She showed us the best trails to hike in West Glacier (where we were staying) and then said that even though the Going-to-the-Sun Road was closed in the middle (that is the road that goes right through the center of the park) it was worth a drive around the park to East Glacier to see the sites.
We spent Sunday on the Trail of Cedars which was a 2.2 mile trek to Avalanche Lake, which was a crystal clear lake with snow covered mountains surrounding it. The hike was perfect. The air smelled of cedars and everything green. It was raining when we started, but it quit before long, and just as the trail emptied us out onto the beach of the lake, the sun came out and warmed our chilly limbs. We sat on a rock looking at the mountains with the sun on our backs and the chipmunks at our feet (and our laps) and I was once again sure I was closer to the Creator than I'd ever been.
On Monday Jason and I had another delicious breakfast at Eddie's and then headed out for East Glacier. As we drove, the landscape started to change. Just as West Glacier had green rolling hills with snow capped mountains behind them, East Glacier took us higher so we were above the rolling hills and amidst the snow covered mountains and rocky cliffs. We literally could see forever in all directions, views of lakes in deep valleys surrounded by rolling hills and cliffs on all sides. I wanted the images to be seared into my mind so that I'd never forget, and we took tons of pictures, but I doubt they will capture the majesty and beauty that exists out there.
We hiked a small trail to Running Eagle Falls and then drove on to Saint Mary and hiked to Saint Mary falls and then even higher to Virginia Falls. It was a powerful waterfall and the spray from it was icy cold. Both Jason and I stood in the spray and when we turned away from it, our faces were dripping wet and frozen. My lips were so numb, I could hardly say how beautiful it was… but the words weren't really necessary. He knew. We hiked around a bit more, spotting mountain goats, Jackson Glacier, and other areas of interest on our map. We were cold and exhausted as we drove back to West Glacier for one last night in our cabin.
The next day we drove out of Glacier, stopping at the Hungry Horse Dam, and then through Idaho and into Wyoming. We stopped in Jackson Hole where we met up with Mom and Dad who had driven up, stopping in Colorado for Mom to run the marathon there.
Jackson Hole, Wyoming
The next day Mark, Julie, and the kids arrived (they drove from Huntsville) and that night we all went to the Bar J Ranch to eat supper and hear their group sing. They were real live cowboys with amazing talent. They sang cowboy songs like "Mariah" and "Raw Hide" along with a ton of others I'd never heard but loved immediately. They had us laughing until our stomachs hurt with their jokes and nonsense and as we left, I asked Jason if he'd buy a pair of those wrangler jeans. Mmmm. That night I decided if anything ever happened to Jason, I was moving to Montana to marry a cowboy. Preferably one of those singing that night with the legs that went on forever in those wrangler jeans.
Yellowstone
The next day we all loaded up and headed for Yellowstone. We drove by the Grand Tetons and into Yellowstone. We saw Old Faithful erupt and all sorts of hot, boiling pools nearby. At one point we came upon hundreds of buffalo and paused for a bit to watch them. Jason, Caroline, and I were in our Highlander, and the rest of the fam were in Julie's van. Well THEY got passed the nursing buffalo. We did not. Just as we were trying to follow the van back onto the main road, THREE Mamas with babies decided to feed… right there…in front of our car. This was neat for a while. But then there was some mooing and two mamas started to butt heads. I felt safe enough, but I wasn't sure what the rental car folks would say if we had to explain that our car was dented by buffalo… THEN, one buffalo hopped on the back of the other…I'm not sure of the genders, but all I have to say is I would not want to be on the bottom of that deal. Those guys are BIG!
Finally they all moved and I told Jason it was now or never. We scooted out of there and continued on our way. We saw tons of elk, goats, moose, buffalo, and even a black bear. I never grew weary of seeing the wildlife. I could have driven and hiked for days. Caroline and I decided that in Heaven, we would be able to pet all of these creatures.
Mom had booked some cabins in Mammoth Hot Springs in the park for all of us to stay that night. We were all worn out and glad to be there. We ate supper and headed to bed.
The Elk in Yellowstone
The next morning, when Jason got up to run, Mom and I got up to hike. Our cabins were right at the base of some of those mountains I'd been eyeing all week and I desperately wanted to feel Sound of Music-esque and run around up there. No singing, really. Just wandering.
So Mom and I took off. There were tons of elk up there and the morning was cold, misty, and quiet. Mom and I were quickly out of breath, hiking up semi-steep mountains at an elevation of 6,000 feet or so. We talked of what we'd seen and how gorgeous it all was. We found a path half-way up the mountain and had just begun to follow it when Mom spotted a baby elk sleeping in the grass. She began to move toward it until I warned her that Mama Elk was looking at her. Mom backed away and we continued up the mountain to the top where we stood on a rock and surveyed the splendor of the surrounding valleys.
Mom found a few rocks she liked and she picked up a few on the way down, handing me one to carry. I was a little wary of Mama Elk since her baby was so near, but I didn't think it was a problem when we finally reached her and she was way on the other side of the trail. WRONG!
Mom began looking for Baby Elk again, and I began looking over my shoulder for Mama Elk. Sure enough, over the hill she came. I yelled, "Mom, she's coming!" and dashed behind a tallish bush where Mama Elk and I had a face off. Elks are TALL and she looked well over my head. When she moved to the right, I moved to the left. My legs were shaking and I had no idea what she was going to do or what I was going to do for that matter.
Mom, however, was not afraid at all. She stood watching and told me to come on. "I'm not leaving these trees!" I said. "She's after me!"
"No she isn't," Mom said. "Come on."
Then, Mom made her way up to me, not to protect me, but to take the rock away from me so that I would not hurt the elk! I took one look at Mom (who was now between me and Mama Elk) and dashed down the mountain at breakneck speed. It had to have looked hilarious and later we laughed a lot over my panic, but at the moment I was scared to death.
Mom began to slowly make her way down the hill and Mama Elk began to come after her. I stood at the bottom with my hands to my face and watched as my mom faced down Mama Elk.
Mom turned around, put her hand out and said "STOP!" Mama Elk stopped. Mom turned to continue down and Mama Elk came again. Mom turned around again and said, "STOP! I am not after your baby!" Then she too ran down the hill to safety. Mama Elk looked on as we fled. Jason was just finishing up his run and with my heart still racing, I told him of our near-death experience. He laughed. Mom laughed. I couldn't believe them. I'd almost been eaten by an elk and they were laughing!
Heading for Helena
After my harrowing experience with the elk, we all took showers, ate breakfast and hopped back into our cars to head for Helena, Montana. The next morning (Saturday) Mom, Jason, and I would run the Governors Cup Marathon…
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