The Mountains We Climb

Life has been crazy in the McQueen house over the past few weeks.  Between marathons, sickness, vacations, and the usual day to day of raising two small boys, there has been little time for blogging... But today, I want to spend a very expensive minute getting down my thoughts and feelings of a certain someone's recent trip to Colorado, and the whirlwind he left at home.

Three weekends ago, my Beautiful Bald Husband took part in a marathon in Leadville, Colorado.  He has been running for a few years now, and runs around 50 miles a week on average, so I really didn't think twice about his ability to run a marathon.  The course was a trail course, and by the sound of it, it would be difficult to impossible to schlep the kids around the course to watch.  I knew it would be a "wait at the start/finish line for a few hours" type of spectating, and I really didn't think the little ones would care much for that.  I also sort of felt the impression from BBH that he wanted to go it alone, a spiritual pilgrimage if you will.... so I decided to sit this one out.

He left early on a Friday morning, and drove the twelve hours to CO.  He wanted to get there early enough to let his body adjust slightly to the elevation difference.... wait, what? 
Yes, the Leadville is the highest elevation city in the nation.  The race starts out at over 10,000 feet above sea level, and at its highest point reaches over 13,000 feet.  The 26.2 miles consists of three mountain climbs with a 10-18%grade, all while traversing the gravel and dirt paths. All of this adds up to a run that is unlike anything this flat plains state resident is use to. 

Of course, I was not aware of most of this information at the time of my decision to stay home.  Okay, I was somewhat aware that he was going to be running in high elevation, that there was a bit of a climb, and that this was all new, but I didn't wrap my mind around how much different and how much more difficult this would be than anything he has done before.  Something tells me that he hadn't fully realized this either.  Something tells me that no one could really understand the impact of all of this until you do it yourself.

We talked on the phone the night before the race.  He sounded good.  He sounded happy.  I was missing him terribly, and missing the by proxy high I got off of him the night before races.  I wished desperately I was there, but I didn't say anything... until he did.  "I miss you guys.  I don't think I'm meant to be away from my family."  (I lost it.) What kind of man says things like that?  Have you ever known a man to be so open, honest, and ADORING to his wife and kids??  My husband, my BBH, he was sitting in his hotel, not thinking about the race, or his shoes, or his time, not counting his goos, or checking his equipment, he was sad and thinking of his wife and kids.  Wishing they were there.  THAT'S what a man is to me. That is why I love him so much... because he loves us just the same.

We got off the phone, reluctantly, expressing our love and longing for one another.  We talked about what to expect as far as how long he might be on the course.  He told me it would be longer than I was use to because of the difference in the course, told him I understood, not to worry about that stuff, and to just have fun and enjoy the sights.  Let God in, and RUN with Him.  I told him to check in with me in the morning before he leaves.  He agreed.

Saturday morning, I got a happy/nervous photo text of him getting ready to line up.  I wished him luck, told him how much I loved him and how proud of him I was.  That was the last I heard from him until after six that night. 

The course had check points that the time tag would register as the runners past.  I was able to follow him for most of the day, I could see he was making progress, that he was continuing to move.  I could also see the countless other runners who were quitting the race with a DNF registering.  Then the progress stopped... and so did my heart. 

I waited, for hours... watching, refreshing... texting his mom, who was doing the same.  We waited.  We waited. We prayed.  (I cried.)

I started Googling the race info, reading other's blogs who had completed it.  Then I began to get a better understanding of exactly what he was up against.  I read over and over again that this was the HARDEST marathon in the country.  The climb was so steep that it was literally physically impossible to run at some points. Not to mention the danger involved with the narrow passes next to cliffs, the uneven paths, and extreme weather differences.  Then factor in the lack of oxygen from being in such high altitudes. The elite runners couldn't even finish it in under 3 and a half hours.  The average finishing time, (that is averaging ALL participants... the best of the best, the ones who train in this terrain) is over six hours. I realized just how much of a monster this course was.  My fear level increased, and with it so did my prayers.

Then I noticed all the other runners who were around his same time were not registering either.  HOPE! Maybe it was a technical glitch.  MAYBE the Earth didn't swallow him up, or he DIDN'T get flung off a cliff, he didn't die from oxygen deprivation, or exposure.  Maybe it was a computer error.

A wash of relief came over me... and I calmed down.  A few moments later I got the text.

Kevin: I couldn't have run any better.  I haven't been so humbled by God's work since Jake and EB.

I fell to the floor and sobbed.  Big ugly cry.  Tears rolling down my cheeks cry.  Relief, pride, love, adoration. A flood of emotion. 

After he caught his breath (and I caught mine) he called.  He told me about the beauty of it all, how God was there reminding him to take care of himself.  How the other runners on the course would envelope each other if they saw one in distress to help them through.  About the old man who told him, "slow deliberate steps."  How he saw God. How he ran with Him, how his life was changed.  I cried again.  It was amazing to hear... heartbreaking not to witness.

It was then that we both agreed that I would not stay at home again.  We realized that those big moments in life, those giant life changing things that happen become so bittersweet when we don't experience them together.  There is something about our connection, our souls tied, that begs for union, that requires the others presence in the mountains we climb.  Whether they be figurative or literal.  We need one another to be there, at least on the sidelines to experience it with us. 

And that is where I intend to be.