by Kristin Armstrong in Runner’s World
There are all kinds of tired. There’s sick tired. Frustrated tired. Insomnia tired. Too much wine tired. Stressed out tired. Worried tired. Jet lag tired. Too much on my mind tired. Too much on my plate tired. Relationship tired. Need coffee tired. Eating poorly tired. PMS tired. Mentally tired.
But perhaps the best kind of tired is ‘I ran my ass off tired.’ Especially when you run your ass off with a pack of close friends on an overnight relay road trip. That’s exactly what we did, starting just after 5 pm last Saturday night and finishing at sunrise on Sunday morning. The Run the the Sun relay race is a 100 mile relay through the Texas hill country benefitting the Beyond Batten Foundation. We drove our rented RV out to Fredericksburg and ran (wee, wee, wee) all the way home to Austin.
I’m still coming down from the endorphin-girl power-good cause-sleep deprivation induced high. I’m waiting for my memories to shift and settle into a nice little diorama so that I can peer inside and tell you all about our amazing adventure. But I’m afraid that if I wait long enough for my memories to gain clarity, something may be lost in time and translation.
So here are my threaded thoughts.
The wind, whipping at high speed, drying my sweat before it had a chance to soak me, causing chapped lips, a parched throat and chafed thighs. Running my first leg, my friends yelling encouragement and handing me water out the window of our RV and follow car. Screaming and singing and handing water to my friends. Driving an RV for the first time, feeling like a road warrior. Olay face wipes qualifying as a shower. Hanging my jog bra on the RV kitchen cabinet knob to dry while I wore another one for my second leg, then switching again. The stench of the RV septic system until Beth found some miracle blue something to pour down there. Speaking of stench, passing a sheep farm – Lord have mercy. Wildflowers, fields of yellow and red bloom. Dead snake. Paige, faithful leader, jumping out in solidarity with anyone on a terribly hard hill. Pace charts, elevation charts, driving matrix. Breakfast tacos – spinach, egg, black bean on corn tortillas. Slap happy fits of laughter with Dawn. Seeing my daughter Isabelle and her friend Anna, working at an aid station late at night, swirling her in a giant hug, and getting a bouquet of picked wildflowers. Telling stories, having enough time to finish conversations. Scary scary dark, headlamps, clip on red blinky lights, reflector vest, knuckle lights, police escorts, orange cones. Breathing through my fear and overcoming it. Paige and Courtney singing the Mama Mia soundtrack in the middle of the night, knowing full well I hated that movie. Crawling into the upstairs nook above the driver in the RV, hugging my pillow with sweaty arms and face, and passing out. Seeing my children and their homemade sign at the finish line. Hugging them and my parents. Cheering Paige, our final runner, and watching her run in, surrounded by a pack of children. Coffee, eggs, pancakes, and gospel music at the finish party. Seeing the family we ran our hearts out for. Massage tables on the grass under the trees. My kids making goofy faces at me under the face cradle. Grace’s sign on the bedroom door, “Mommy Sleeping. Do Not Enter Until Later.” My glass of red wine at dinner, which tasted like accomplishment.
That’s the kind of tired I mean.
The kind of tired that means you are depleted, but far from empty.
Watching each of my friends working so hard, churning up hills that made my legs ache just from pushing the gas pedal, made me burst at my emotional seams. These are the people I rely on, and I got to see them under pressure, exhausted, relentless, and beautiful – giving every last reserve without complaint.
Charlotte, our friend and the mother of the little girl with Batten disease, said at the finish line that she felt “more blessed than burdened.” If she feels this way,if SHE feels this way, how much more honored and humbled are we who got to run and carry just a tiny little piece of that burden?
It’s a good tired.