I always tear up during the first five kilometers of a race.
And I’ll do it at least three times. I’m sure part of it is from feeding off of
the energy that comes from other runners as well as all those fabulous volunteers, but more
being a result of those butterflies build out of anticipation at that start
line – after all, this is what we came for. It's that exact same feeling I get
going through customs. It’s those escaped giggles as I exchanged questionable
glances with the girl closest, when the announcer said what a beautiful day it is: we
were both bouncing up and down trying to create heat out of this brisk day. And finally someone shouts GO and those
butterflies are released from my stomach and I take off from the start
line, and well, go.
The fall colours are beautiful as we’re run in the valley of
the Okanagan. The day begins with a blue bird sky, and as we pass by orchards
and wineries I can’t believe how goddamn lucky I am to have this life of mine.
On this trip, I had the pleasure of seeing my sassy grandma and
loving
grandpa - I'm his favorite. And I'm the middle child,
so I
can get away with saying this. After a quick bowl of soup with them, my
mom and
I met up with my Aunt and Uncle and cousin for an afternoon of wine
tasting. And while the red and whites started blending into the same
flavors, there was talk of my Aunt and
cousin running the Baldy Half, while I take on my very first Full
Marathon, the
same time next year. Don't worry, I plan on holding them to this wine
induced
promise.
I am so fortunate to have a second set of parents who I was able to visit while in southern BC, who replenished me with carbs and wine and then continued to berate me with loving questions
about that Hunter they have yet to meet. Fortunately, my other Bushbabe and I
share the very same second set of parents, so she and her Mike came down, too. It
was a quick trip containing some off[-roading, a hike to a lookout, with the
best views of the maintains that watched me grow during my childhood; I also had my first ever motorbike
ride. I was woken up, long
before the sun, with a knock on the cabin and a 5Am Breakfast, with side scare of
leaving my car lights on and almost killing my battery, which would make it a
second time of this trip, quite naturally. A promise was made to have our next family dinner at my Bushbabe and her
Mike's newly purchased MT Acres down in Southern BC. 
Pavement turned into gravel and the line of runners
dispersed. Suddenly it was just the two of us passing by rows of apple trees
and grapevines and then we jogged past the halfway mark. Rain clouds invaded the blue bird
sky and the headwind picked up. I let Ontario Girl pass me, silently sending out good vibes to her for taking me as far as she did. I knew that pavement meant I had roughly
five kilometers to go, so as I savored the sweet Gatorade at the fueling station I pushed onward as my aching legs pushed back. I’m not too modest to admit that it was
a hard run, despite the flatness of the route, and I picked up the pace for the
final time as the sandwich board scream finish line and the spectators screamed congratulations. I passed the 20KM finish line at 2:04 and, a bit dazed,
and ran directly into a handful of family members, so very thankful that they
came to cheer me on.
A Runner.
