I haven't done this before.  I haven't written the first draft of Reflections right into the e-mail format I use to send it out.  Tonight I am tired.  I almost decided to skip this issue or write it tomorrow.  Instead I am winging it, and doing it on time.  The messages I want to share are buried in there somewhere, and I trust them to come forth.

I am back from the Center of the Nation race series, and Jane and I both count 39.3 miles as our total for the week.  Our friend Darlene did all five days of half marathons for 65.5 miles.  Others have stickers with that read 131.0.  So why would we do that? What is the point?  What did we expect?  What did we experience?  Darned good questions!  I will speak for myself...each of us has a different story.

I tried something I didn't know I could do.  I might have fatigued to collapse.  I might have tweaked a weak link and ended up in a boot or worse.  I might have used up every last ounce of mental resolve and stopped short.  I didn't do any of those.  I made a commitment and delivered.  I am grateful and pleased and stronger for the next time.

I made an open-ended offer to my friend: " I will run with you anytime and anyplace you want for your 50th."  I didn't expect her to come up with a race series, out in the middle of the Great Plains. But she did  And I did. I am amazed.

I learned a little about the others I would meet, and introduced them to you last week. The amputee running on a prosthetic leg.  Two more racing on rough roads with hand cycles.  The woman walking in an orthopedic boot.  The man raising money for Boston Marathon survivors. The elderly fellow with a twisted torso and shirt that said "50 marathons 9 times."  The giant of a man with a silver ponytail, hot pink t-shirt with matching calf-warmers, and a wife who volunteered all week.

The race organizers wrote our first names our our race bibs.  The courses were short out-and-backs, so we passed our comrades face to face, time and again.  Cheery and repeated comments..."go for it Pam"..."looking good Pam" had more feel-good power than I would have thought possible.

Every two miles we cycled back to the start/finish line and there were tables of snacks for us to refuel.  Smoothies.  Watermelon.  PB & J.  Cookies, chips, pretzels, brownies.  Bananas.  M&Ms.  And more.

The moon was full and was setting as the sun rose.  Wide open plains in Wyoming, North Dakota, and Montana offered unlimited horizons to enjoy the miracle of transition from summer to fall.

Wind.  Yes, there was wind.  Somehow always in our face and on the uphills.  This morning at the airport, the woman in her boot said the coldest and windiest day was her favorite.  She learned how much she could do and was excited by the discovery.

There is more, so much more.  But it is bedtime.  The memories are as warm as the wind was cold.  The memories of friendship, longstanding and new, fuel my desire for more.  The sharing of challenges, the celebration of success both fast and slow, the smiling faces despite it all remind me that our responses to pain and hardship are a choice.  My feet can hurt.  My back can go numb.  My fingers can burn with cold  But I can smile.  I can shout out a heartfelt "Good job, Michael." And I can put one sore foot in front of the other until the very end.  The joy might not look clear in the moment, but the focus sharpens in the rear view mirror.

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When have you looked back on a tough experience and celebrated those very moments of pain, hardship, awkwardness, and failure that felt so bad at the time?