The Columbia River Gorge Half Marathon is coming up in October, and I began training last week. Last year, I participated in the marathon with the goal simply of finishing in the allotted time frame. My walking partner Kathy and I, both first time participants over sixty, were thrilled that we were able to complete it. This year, our goal is to beat our time from last year.
Though I've worked out regularly during the year, I've walked only sporadically, especially during the heat of summer. On a sunny, mild afternoon last week, I set out for Salmon Creek Greenway, rather pleased with myself for my timely start on the training. I smiled at the quacking ducks, and sniffed fading wild roses. Just as the path passed under a tall shady arch of poplars and oaks, a woman in a safari hat beckoned me, making a "sssh" sign. She pointed to a great blue heron, balanced on one leg, still, hidden among the greenery. She'd seen it in the vicinity before. We were alone on the path, and as I strode on, I thanked her for sharing such a sublime moment.
Later in the week, I heard from Kathy that the coach with whom we both train had some recommendations for increasing our pace. I panicked, as though he were suggesting that I need to run a four-minute mile and would never be able to enjoy walking in nature again. My daughter, who also works with him and will be running the race, laughed. "You like being comfortable, but if you don't want to be out there for days, you need to go a little faster."
I remembered how ecstatic I was simply to finish the race in time to get a medal last year, and what a great achievement it was to reach a goal that I had worked hard for. When I went out yesterday for my second midweek training, I followed the coach's suggestions, and improved my time. I didn't stop to spot the heron, but I began to have the feeling that if I work at it, I can make my goal this year. It didn't hurt that I've been following the Paris Olympics: the excellence and determination of the athletes is thrilling.
My late husband John was a great example of reaching a goal through persistence and hard work. If you want to learn about my sailing adventure with John and our seven-year-old daughter when we left everything behind and sailed away to fulfill his lifelong dream, you can find my book, Holding Fast: A Memoir of Sailing, Love, and Loss here.