A notebook kind of runner
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I run unplugged and something good always happens.
This Spring, I ran a half-marathon for the third time in a year. It’s the prep work needed as I train for my first marathon this Fall.
13.1 miles from the St. Paul Cathedral to Minnehaha Falls in Minneapolis. I reached a personal record (PR) by 4 minutes and 21 seconds. Thank you Uncle Steve for being the spokesperson for all my race data. Such a gem.
The sun was out. The weather was perfect. More than 1600 runners flooded the streets. The fans were there too.
Two runners and their shoes. Photo taken by Jocelyn McQuirter.
I liked to hear and see it all. Along the trail, I embraced the sights, sounds, and smells. What I remember the most was the final mile.
In that moment, I saw him. He, an older white man in a red jacket, stood at one of the last curves of the race. He looked with intention at every runner passing by, in their eye if he could, and gave them a final word of encouragement. His words were individualized and filled with passion.
For a moment, I suspended any possibility that he may have had, in a way of writing me, my people out of his legacy in life values, policy, and practice. Albeit a stranger, I care about receipts of anyone claiming to be a messenger of hope.
At .2 miles (1,056 feet) from the finish line, I cannot tell you how much a few simple words can propel a body into a turbo of possibility. It’s like that teacher who you’ll never forget, forever etched in your memory. Forever credited to part of your greatness. The one (or many) who believed in you and were never afraid to show it.
As I looked at him, he looked at me and words turned to gold. Simultaneously with arms motioning inward and then outstretched, he said: “push” in the most assertively soft, loving, and grandfatherly way.
In that moment, my ancestors were summoned. In ~1,000 feet, I passed at least 6 runners ahead of me before gracing passed the finish line.
“Congrats on the PR Jocelyn,” uncle cheered from the crowd. I responded with an exhausted smile and a championship high-five.
Other thoughts/observations from yesterday’s run:
The YOU GOT THIS text from a bestie.
The Black man with the “Black men run” shirt at the start line.
The “yes girl get it” Black girl cheering me on.
Kaiden’s audio message to have a good marathon.
Me: What pace are you going for? Friend: finish pace.
Seeing 7 turkeys band together.
Warm up run and strategy talks with my uncle.
Two friends warming up, one picks up the other and cracks their back.
The trio with the matching outfits and the cartwheel photo opp at every mile marker.
The water cup offered and received by melanated hands.
The eagle soaring in the sky at mile 12.
Sunkissed eagle soaring in the blue sky. Photo by Rachel McDermott on Unsplash
The white bodied biker playing Bone Thugs and Harmony.
The fans cheering for Molly, but it ended up not being Molly.
A runner’s outer dialogue questioning their life choices…”why did I sign up for this? It’s going to get worse…”
The little white boys frolicking and waving pom poms, cheering “good job runners!”
The small talk with another runner running unplug.
The fist bump towards the end.
Seeing a familiar member of this local slow af run club and hyping them up after finishing their first half marathon.
The photo opp friend who joined me at the end.
The song, “Heart of a Lion” by Mama Haze playing on repeat.
Then of course the last cheer, “Push” from the elder with passionate eyes.
I put it all out there and it all worked out.
I’m constantly reminded moments are powerful. Tuning into the present continues to be the best soundtrack of my life.