At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us. (Albert Schweitzer)
About a week before this past Christmas, I took a deep breath and signed on to a double challenge as I registered for the Run to Home Base 9k (my longest distance race to date) and committed to the accompanying $1,000-minimum fundraising goal. This was no small undertaking for me, and the prospect of running 5.6 miles was nothing compared to the daunting task of raising $1,000. I've never been good at asking for money, even for a good cause. I dreaded the thought of becoming one of those people who did nothing but eat, sleep, breathe and shill 24/7. I've read plenty of stories about folks who are champion fundraisers, but I've never been one of them. I just wanted to reach my goal.
As I began training for the longer distance of this race, a significant increase from my usual 5k, obstacles popped up: a horrendous winter, my near-constant dread of running on a treadmill (okay, so that particular obstacle is ever present for me), an acute proximal hamstring strain and then, this week preceding the 9k (as I write this), I'm at DEFCON 1 valiantly fighting off an imminent cold that wants to derail my plans. And, still, my greatest concern was the ability to reach my fundraising goal.
Today, through the generosity of a treasured group of people, I reached that goal...and even exceeded it. When I saw the thermometer graphic reach all the way to the $1,000 mark, I sat at my desk, my hands shaking, holding back tears, simply and utterly in awe. Donations came in amounts large and small, every single one tremendously valued not only by the Home Base Program, but particularly by me. I have always known that the people I am honored to call friends are generous, as they have proved time and again with their support of my running efforts, lending encouragement during trials and cheers during triumphs. I searched for words that would adequately express my sincere and profound appreciation, and found nothing that would fit. I gave one of the highest compliments for which I'm known: YOU RAWK! and hoped it would encompass my appreciation in my own inimitable way.
Running is, by its nature, a solitary sport; yet the running community is warm and inviting and filled with wonderful camaraderie. Every runner was a newbie at some point, and when you begin your running career in (gulp) mid-life and at something (gulp) significantly higher than anything on the ideal-weight chart, it can be particularly nerve-wracking to try to run a 5k. But at every race I've attended, I have been warmly welcomed and encouraged by complete strangers, predominantly runners who know what it is to stand at the start line and struggle with self-doubt about the prospect of running a distance most people can cover (even walking), yet most don't.
And yet, as I stand on the start line at Fenway Park this Sunday morning, I will not be alone. In addition to being accompanied by a couple thousand runners, each of us running in support of the Home Base Program, serving veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, I will be carried along by something as simple, humbling and powerful as sheer gratitude. How I get to the finish line, in what amount of time and in what kind of physical condition I cannot say. But I know with certainty that I will be riding a current of gratitude as I cross over and run along the Charles River between Fenway Park and Cambridge, counting smoots as I cross the Harvard Bridge and finishing in front of Fenway's famed Green Monstah.
For everyone who sponsored me in the Run to Home Base 9k, I am grateful beyond words. I'm still shocked that we reached (and exceeded!) the fundraising goal, and I am awed by their tremendous generosity.
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