The unexpected

I just realized this is a fitting entry for Mother’s Day…today’s writing wasn’t a forethought for the occasion.  I actually planned on dedicating this blog to my mom weeks ago because I thought she was my only reader!  This blog is for her because she’s my fan - she can out cheer the grandest cheering section in Boston and she’s always been my reader.  She’s been reading me for years, and there’s nothing more comforting than having that intimacy with someone who loves unconditionally.  Here’s to you mom…and the thought that maybe one day we’ll run a marathon together.

... 

Surprisingly, I love the unexpected.  Me, Mrs. Know-in -Advance, Mrs. Skip-Ahead-a-Few-Pages-to-Uncover-the-Ending, likes an impromptu visit, a rain shower on the perfect beach day, or learning that my macho-man, Ford F-250 with-a-lift driving neighbor bakes bread at home.  The unexpected, combined with improper timing, has the ability to sabotage the most well thought out plans and to bring on heavy doses of discomfort.  But there’s also something about the unexpected that makes my brain more alert, makes me feel more alive…and this appeals to me.  If I can give myself over to the sweet haphazard of the moment, the surprise downpour, the unanticipated confession of a friend,  then just maybe I can accept the humbling lesson that I don’t control the rain and I don’t always know everything.  There…I said it…I don’t understand the intricacies of heaven and earth!

There are a few unexpected things about me that one might not guess…I used to cry when my sandwhich would fall apart (I think I was 5), I could happily be a gardener for a living, I love using a chainsaw, I can still scare myself frozen in bed just thinking about a monster lurking in the closet, and the idea of a harem sounds fantastic to me (sharing maternal and wifely duties with other women, laying around in silk, eating dates….sign me up!). 

The most unexpected thing about running for me, besides the fact that this bookish non-athlete loves it heart, soul and body, is that I learned how to run from my mother.  Everything enduring, challenging, enjoyable, and pivotal about running I learned from my mother…who does not run.  Although she’s been inspired at several of my marathons to tie her own laces and start the age defying feat of high-impact motion, she has never run.  She is, however, the most adventurous member in a group of women who believe that running can make your uterus fall out.  I’m still working on convincing her otherwise; so here are a few things she already knows about running that might come in handy if she decides to take it up:

My mother is hope incarnate.  She believes in the power of hope.  Although she’s never physically run beside me at a difficult mile 18, she saw beyond the pain, beyond the overwhelming 8.2 miles left to go, and confirmed that “I had it in me”.  Hope is the part of running that always knows we have it in us.  We can carry on through “gut issues” (as my friend Susan calls it) or carry our partner’s burdens on long runs because there’s no question that we have it in us. 

My mother believes a great heart is the greatest possession.  While efficient running requires a heart great in oxygen uptake, the spiritual heart and its great ability to love is what matters to my mom.  I have a vivid recollection of a moment on my childhood bed, laying next to my mom, knees bent and feet carelessly waving.  She read me the poem “Greatheart” by J. Oxenham.  She read it to me slowly, annunciating “greatheart” as if it were a new pronunciation of my name.  I had not accomplished many great-hearted things up to that point, but that seemed rectifiable.  That afternoon was history making in the story of our lives…the two of us on my bed, reading and declaring to “wage a fight for good and right”. Now approaching mid 30's and settling into the dull drums of wrinkles, toddler meltdowns, mortgages, shorter showers, shorter prayers and shorter dinner short-cuts, I'm afraid I don't have time for anything “greathearted”.  Running brings me back to that moment, closer to the carefree and innocent acceptance that I am called to do great things.

My mother finds strength and joy in unexpected places.  There are days when I have nothing but wine (always have wine) and cilantro in my fridge, and even if my mom were famished she would exclaim that she wanted nothing more than wine to fortify her soul and a few green cilantro leaves (just because she was in a tex-mex kind of mood).  I don’t know if she truly finds what she needs in what she’s given or if she just adapts what she needs to what she’s given.  Lately, a few sleepless nights and inclimate conditions have not been what I needed for a satisfactory run, but maybe my running needed them.  Adapt to the unexpected, and you find strength and joy.  Look for running advice and running tips in the unexpected person.  Turn a spouse’s harsh words into fuel for a kick ass pace run, or toddler’s screams in a stroller into a blast your ipod and dance run, or a tender moment with a needy friend as a prompt to take a rest day and make meaningful moments outside of running.