Having kissed the six mile post marker, Rick looked at me and exclaimed, "I have done it, I'm ready to conquer the "Butte to Butte". This may not seem of the same magnitude as kissing the famous Blarney Stone, but for Rick and I, this marked the first step toward achieving our goal. The Butte to Butte, 10 kilometer race, was in fact fast approaching us and the unattainable was for the first time within our reach.
I have always run whether for means of transportation, enjoyment, or competition, but for Rick this was the first time he stayed with this activity long enough to realize a goal. I still remember the first time I said, "Let's run the Butte to Butte." Rick's response was not stated with the same enthusiasm that I had when asking him. He was very reserved and withheld any commitment until he had the "big picture". He wanted to know all the facts, how long, how many people, would we be competing for time, and many other significant details for a first time competitor.
It was at this point that I had to restrain my desire to discuss with him that I had thoughts of us running the ultimate of races. Just two weeks prior to Rick's famous kiss, a neighbor stopped by and told me she thought we looked like we were in training for a marathon. That idea didn't leave my thinking even though I knew it was too early in our schedule to tell my novice running partner. I needed to wait until the right moment. So, when this enthusiasm enveloped Rick and me, I could no longer contain myself, the moment felt right. "Rick, since you now know you can successfully complete a 6.2 mile race, what do you think about moving forward, pushing ourselves beyond our immediate limits?" "What greater running goal can there be?", he asked. We still hadn't run our first race, but just completed the first major step in that training. Now, I was going to propose 26.2 miles. Was this ludicrous? A marathon was a major leap from traditional six mile road races. My mind explored the outcome possiblities of my impulsive actions. Should I tell him what I really am thinking and possibly lose his trust in me as his training partner? Or should I try to stall for time and prepare the right moment? I chose to hedge a bit, give myself some time to think. After all, it is a well known fact that less than one percent of the population are physically fit, determined or stupid enough to run these events. I couldn't even speak to him from experience because the longest race I had run so far was a half-marathon and frankly I didn't have fond memories of that event.
I spent the next two miles doing what I have learned so well with my students. I distracted him time after time about other topics, ever chattering, keeping his mind preoccupied. In behavioral terms this is known as "redirecting". All the while I was busying my brain with how to approach the proverbial "can of worms" that my foot tucked nicely in my mouth allowed to slither forth. My mother always said, "Karen, think before you speak". Once again, I wished I had heeded her advice. Not that I wouldn't have eventually pursued this but the timing needed to be right.
After evaluating and strategically planning my next move, I finally broached the subject again. "About the next goal, our neighbor was mentioning how wonderfully toned our bodies had become. She also was commenting on how often she sees us running on the road. She was thinking that we must in fact be gearing up for some ultimate performance. I told her we were fast approaching our first goal of running the Butte to Butte". My mind was organizing, what the next step might be. How could I encourage without pushing too fast and too far? Goals must be within reach with a gradual shifting of expectations or one might lose confidence and hope. I immediately remembered what the running books said about lengthening your distance. "You know, if you can run six miles, you can run twelve miles, and if you can run twelve miles you can run twenty-four. The experts say that if you are training consistently and varying your techniques, that you can in fact double what you currently are running." He took the bait, "you mean that we could in fact run 12 miles tomorrow?", he said.
I knew that he was experiencing the "runner's high". I also knew that we had been training intensely and our goal was well within our reach. To jeopardize this would be foolish. We had been training for this event for the past five months, six out of the seven days. During our runs, we shared many wonderful stories and philosophies about ourselves, while learning how to better care for our bodies. We were, in my opinion, ready to continue stretching beyond our limits not only in running but in living the ultimate physical and mental lifestyle.
The next several days brought us even closer together. We were running two times a day with speed and hill training. We were prepared when the final day came. Completion of the race was always our goal and to this we were indeed successful. However, my knee began giving me some trouble and I needed to walk toward the end of the race. Rick stayed with me even though he was strong and very capable of running ahead. This had been our commitment, to run together and to complete the Butte to Butte, holding hands as we crossed the finish line. He gently dismissed my feelings of failure and instead focused on our successes. Euphoria surrounded us for having completed an important step in our lives. Rick thanked me again and again. He appreciated that I had been there to give guidance and direction that led to what he said was a new healthy, happy, well-nourished life both mentally and physically. He and I had a sense of accomplishment. We reveled in the fact that we could do what we set out to do.
This was just a beginning for the two of us and the life style we were choosing. No one could have predicted the ultimate outcome, not even us. Since that day, we have successfully completed four marathons, including the London Marathon. We have our dreams and we continue to work to make them real.