By Jennifer Savage
When I cracked an inside joke around mile 23 I think my friend Sarah knew I was not only going to be fine but that was going to finish this marathon smiling.
I had picked her up a mile or so before. She was jumping up and down, smiling and cheering for me.
“Woohoo Savage!” she said.
I took my headphones off long enough to hug her and say, “Let’s get her done, Richey!”
“Let’s do it!” she said. We were both pretty excited. I was feeling strong, we’d connected at the spot we’d planned the on the day before when she said she’d be happy to hop in the last leg of the race and run with me. There aren’t many people I’d want to see at mile 22 of a marathon but Sarah Richey, she’s one of them. She’s top notch.
We met years ago when she was the elusive girlfriend of our friend Dave. She’s in Colorado, he’d say. She’s teaching a course in Utah. She always seemed to NOT be in Missoula. We used to joke that he was making her up, creating her out of some badass outdoor fantasy. Turns out she was not only real, she was real deal. Big smile, always up for adventure, she’s now married to Dave and after years of living way to far away from each other, we all live on the same side of town.
When I saw her on Sunday, water bottle in hand, ready to jump in a run the last four miles of the marathon with me I was about as happy to see her as I had been a few years ago when she I watched her lead us to an opening in a slot canyon in Utah. We’d been walking sideways to fit through the water carved sandstone and I, feeling claustrophobic at my core, dug deep not to lose it. When the canyon inevitably widened and I saw Richey silouhetted against the red rock I knew I could follow this girl anywhere, that when things got tough emotionally or otherwise, I wanted her on my team.
So Sunday, I settled in to run the last four miles of the marathon with Richey at my side.
I told her Robert Earl Keen was playing on my ipod.
Dan and Margarita
were swayin’ side by side
I heard they were divorcin’
But I guess they let it slide
And I wished I had some money with
which to buy a round
I wished I’d cashed my paycheck
Before I came to town
But I reached into my pocket
Found three twenties and a ten
It feels so good feelin’ good again
I love Keen’s proper grammar in that song but Richey knew that because we’ve been listening to him for years. I told her when Steve Earle came on. Then Eminem.
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
I think I even said out loud, I love Slim Shady. Which I do, and through all of this Richey just laughed. And ran.
Just before mile 24 I saw my friend Nici in her new running skirt, two bonneted children tucked in to her stroller. They were ready to run. Richey, Nici, Margot, Ruby and I rounded Bonner Park together. What I had thought would be the most grueling part of the run wasn’t. I was almost there and with very definition of friendship on either side of me.
It had been a good race. Hay boxes (you may call them bales, I call them boxes) at mile three in Frenchtown reminded me of the summer Seth and I lived with our friends Jess and Mark outside Eugene. Jess said it looked like the country grass was waving at her that summer. I thought of her as I passed fields of hay and sprinklers as the sun came up over the mountains. I noticed a few times that morning that I was smiling as we made our way down the rural road that would lead us all to Missoula. When we rounded the first turn of the race around mile 10 I was getting hot and my foot and hip were starting to hurt. We crossed the Clark Fork River and I could hear people starting to complain. I turned my iPod up and listened to Michael Franti.
And you don’t stop
And you don’t quit
And you don’t stop
And you don’t quit
Everybody ona move
La la la
At eleven or so miles we started to climb the one big hill in the marathon. I put my head down listened to Ira Glass mumble on about Barbados and Jamacia thinking screwed economy or not, I’d take a sandy beach right about then. When we got to the bottom of the hill I knew I was getting tired and it was time to, as Seth says, screw my lid on tight.
Back to music on the iPod, I started running through every sprinkler we passed. And there were many. I only remember trying to keep one foot in front of the other at this point, glad that my feet were feeling a little numb. I ate gel, I drank water. I carried handfuls of ice that someone generously put out in a cooler on the curb for runners to grab. I turned left, saw the Hawthorne school and realized I was at mile 20. Somehow, I got a second wind. Just a 10k to go. And people started lining the streets to cheer for all of us.
When I saw Keila and Brock at mile 21 I was so excited to see someone I knew I started clapping too. My legs were numb by this time too but my spirit was doing cheerleading jumps from seventh grade. And I knew I was only a mile or so from Richey.
Nici ducked out as we left Bonner Park and Richey and I kept running. We passed Dru around mile 25 and all I could do was smile and wave. A half a mile later we passed Casey and Richard’s house. They were on the porch cheering with noise makers. This was where I’d given myself permission to fall apart, to start sobbing and let the flood of all that this marathon meant come down but all I could was smile.
Richey pinched me on the ass and said, “Go cross that bridge, Savage! You got this!”
I waved to her and Dave made the last turn onto the Higgins Bridge where, it seemed, half of the town was waiting to cheer us on. When I ran under the balloons, across the finish line to the sweet sound of Michael Franti, serenading me and only me, all I wanted to do was celebrate.
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Jennifer Savage is a writer and mama of Eliza and Lucille. Lately, she's learning to be a city girl. She writes from her home in Missoula, Montana. She is also one of Mamalode's favorite writers and you can fall in love with her too at Jennifer-Savage.com Read more of Jennifer's mamalode articles here.
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Awesome, awesome, awesome! Way to go, and CONGRATS and such a wonderful accomplishment!!
Good Job!!! You make a neighbor proud!
Amazing. I am tearing up with joy! You rock Ms. Savage!!!
I was cheering for you all the way from New London that morning. Way to go!!!!!!
You’re amazing lady! In awe of you once again. xoxo
My face is soaked in tears, Savage, I love this!! It makes me hunger for you and Sares and Missoula so much! Lovely writing. And, most importantly, congratulations, mama!!
Great post, Savage! You are a rockstar mama with rockstar friends… I just got that wave of tears that means awe, inspiration and love… all for you! Congrats on a great marathon and journey. I’m proud to have you in my town and my “village”.
Congrats, Jennifer. I am so very impressed. Thanks for the inspiration and thanks for writing so fondly of Sarah. She’s a keeper, that girl.
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