Thankfulness

They say not every run can be a good one and that we should be humbled by the bad ones. I get that. I mean, I’m practically the poster girl for finding lessons in bad experiences. But sometimes having a bad run just sucks, especially if it’s on race day. Then again, sometimes the best lessons come to you anyway, even if you’re not looking for them.

On Thanksgiving morning, I woke up at 6:30 a.m. to a 23° temperature. Not ideal. It was a beautiful morning though. The sun was bright and the sky was a clear, crystal blue. I’d been looking forward to the Turkey Trot and the Double Gobble for weeks. I left my house at 7:00, wanting to give myself enough time for traffic but not enough time to be waiting in the cold for too long. If you’ve ever run with numb toes, you know that it’s highly unpleasant.

The 5k portion of the Double Gobble started at 8:30 and the 5-miler began at 9:15. I made it downtown by 7:40. Perfect! …Or so I thought. Traffic was horrendous near the Heinz Field lots. I wasn’t worried though, I still had plenty of time. I enjoyed the view of the field from my window, turned the radio up, and snapped a picture. It took about 20 minutes to get off the ramp only to sit through light changes as the lots quickly filled. I was starting to get a little nervous. I pinned my bib to my zip-up and watched the other runners hurrying to the starting area. Another 15 minutes passed and I had only managed to drive a few yards. 8:15 became 8:20 and I was getting frustrated. At this point, a few runners hopped out of an SUV in front of me. I wish I could’ve done that, but there I was, stuck; stuck and helpless. I pulled into a lot only to drive right back out because it was full. This was a beginning to be a nightmare. The exit of the lot spit me back into the traffic I thought I was free from. 8:27, l wasn’t going to make the 5k. I got a lump in my throat and my eyes started to well up. Don’t get too upset Bianca, it’s not the worst thing. You’ll still have the 5 miler. I was trying to talk myself down, but I felt like a 3 year old that accidentally let go of her new balloon.

As I waited, another pair of runners hopped out of a car in front of me. And there I was, still stuck… and alone. I made a last second decision to park in the Rivers Casino garage. By this time I was so caught up in my disappointment that I wasn’t really paying attention to where I parked. Did that sign say level 2?

At the 5 mile start line I was surrounded by runners in orange and brown tutus and silly turkey hats. All my bouncing and stretching was not enough to keep my toes warm, they were starting to tingle. Crap. On a similar note, all the positive thinking about how things happen for a reason was not enough to quell my disappointment.

I was trying to snap out of it, but it wasn’t easy. It was just an awful race. For starters, my ear buds gave out so I had no music to motivate me. There weren’t any mile markers or time clocks along the route. Nothing is more irritating than not knowing how you’re pacing or how much farther you have to go. Nothing except almost stepping in dog poop at least 5 times. I’m a dog lover, but let’s be considerate people! There weren’t even any Smiley cookies at the finish.

But by then, the endorphins had kicked in and I was feeling better. I was looking forward to my drive to Maryland and spending Thanksgiving with my family. I grabbed a water and enjoyed the view along the river front. I took my gloves off to take a picture and noticed that my fingers and toes were comfortably warm now. It’s funny how that happens, isn’t it? You keep running for the sake of running and even if it’s not your focus, it’s a welcome and pleasant result. It’s like the lessons you learn sometimes. Just keep walking (or running) the path that was meant for you and the lessons from those tough moments will reveal themselves.  At this point I sort of thought the lesson was that I should get to places earlier. (Truer than I’d like to admit! ) But the more time I spent in the garage searching for my car the more I thought maybe the lesson was something different. After 20 minutes, the frustration and the stinging cold crept back in. Maybe this is God’s way of telling me that I should finally listen to my friend and let her fix me up. I wouldn’t be in this predicament if I had someone to drop me off and pick me up. And it wouldn’t be so bad if I had someone to cheer me on, maybe even make a little “Go Bianci!”sign for me. That would actually be pretty great.

Just as I was starting to wish for something I didn’t have, I felt a buzz in my pocket. It was a text from that friend. “Hope you had a great race!” I responded and explained my situation. “If your car is stolen, I’ll come pick you up!” I laughed. How amazing to have a friend like that. I realized how fortunate I was and how foolish I was being. That was the lesson.

I eventually found my car, which was actually on level 4. I made it to Germantown with just enough time for my nephew and I to play outside before dinner. He galloped and plunged into a pile of leaves and I gushed over his sweet, gleeful voice; “You do it too, Aunt B!” All the meaninglessness frustrations of the day disappeared.

The thing is, my story would’ve been so different if I’d had someone to drive me to the race. This was the story I was meant to tell.  We talked, ate a lot, played Thanksgiving Bingo, and had a puppet-show battle with my nephew and his cousin. I sat on the living room floor and listened to their infectious laughter as the construction paper turkey lost a wing in the fight.  I was overwhelmed with a feeling of warmth and gratefulness. I was awestruck over how lucky I was and couldn’t imagine wanting anything else than what I’ve been blessed with.