Today I participate in the Step Up for Colleen 5k, a
walk/run fundraiser in honor of the Massachusetts teacher who was murdered at her
school last year. Colleen's family is
local, and we have known the family for over a decade. This 5k will be my first, and I cannot think
of a more humbling event than this to mark as my initiation.
Originally I thought I would be participating by myself,
without anyone else I know, so I started training. The only problem was that I was in the throes
of a bad bronchial infection. I wore
myself out after one mile. So pathetic.
Then I got sidelined by my thesis and all the melodrama
surrounding that -- the lost pages, the overtly sadistic professor, the
presentation, and the attempt at rerouting it onto the road to approval.
I suddenly realized a week ago that I hadn't been training.
Actually, I haven't trained formally since last fall. So, being the incredibly dumbass whom I am, I
decided to run the loop around my neighborhood and gave myself terrible leg
cramps that lasted for days. This idiocy
led me to believe that I should probably just surrender my 5k delusions.
Then, my kids got involved.
All three of them wanted to participate.
I paid the entry fees for us all, my daughter picked up our numbers and
shirts, and several friends also said they'd be there. Suddenly, I had some support to do this. My daughter and I agreed to walk the route
with the families and children and meanderers, and my boys decided to run with
the other athletes.
Sunday dawns. It's 5k
Race Day.
I live near the starting line, so the kids and I walk the half
mile from the house to Central Park, the gathering point for the event. The boys get busy herding in with the timed
runners, and my daughter and I look around for my friend Lisa, mom to kiddos
who grew up with my children. In the
meantime of trying to locate Lisa, we hobnob with all kinds of buddies from
around town.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a familiar
face. Well, it's semi-familiar because
it's a face I have not seen in two decades.
Walking across the lawn through the park, in front of our old junior
high school, as if coming right out of the past is a childhood friend of my
late husband. I almost don't believe it
is he, and it takes me several seconds to register: Is it
...? Is it …? Oh … my … god … it … is!
You have to understand.
After my husband died, most of his friends and many of my friends fell
by the wayside. It's not a
vindictive thing, though for a punitive few it truly is and good riddance to those, but
generally it's just the way life goes sometimes. My friend Lisa and my daughter and I quickly
drag Jamie with us, forcing him to walk amongst a sea of pink women and
families with strollers. He's good sport
about it, and we get caught up like old times.
Once we get beyond the 'howya doing" part, we move on to other
friends who've passed, a sad topic on any occasion but especially sad today
since the last time I had a chance to talk to him face-to-face may have been at my husband's
wake, and also sad for the occasion of this 5k in the first place.
At the end of the race, my daughter and I walk with Jamie
over the front lawn of the old school, where he is meeting another friend,
Steven, who used to go to school with me.
It is a chance to reconnect with people.
Although I never do see Lyn and the few others I expected to see, I do
get to see Joanne, Chris, Pug, CJ, and a whole slew of others. The musical entertainment people provide
along the way is outstanding, and the encouragement from the lawn spectators
make us feel like rock stars.
I may have walked this 5k, but it doesn't make it any less
special nor important, and seeing so many people makes it all that much
better. Jamie, my friend, you are a
fantastic sport, and it was great to see you.
But if you don't mind, I'm going to go home and sit down for a few
hours. It may have only by a short
distance, but after the emotional thesis presentation and the emotional reason
for this event and after the joy of seeing so many old friends (and after
slapping high fives with those Brownie Girl Scouts who finished way ahead of
me), I'm suddenly exhausted.
If I don't see all of you sooner, see you all at the next 5k.
