Last week my running partner, wingman, and best friend Paige turned 50. She celebrates birthdays like they’re Hanukkah—everyone gets at least seven days of love and attention. It was so much fun for me to celebrate the celebrator, take care of the caretaker, give props to the one who always props me up, and enjoy the joyful one. You know you are a weird runner girl when getting older is awesome because your Running Was His Life. Then Came Putin’s War gets easier. We crossed over into 50 and ldquo;Thank you for these friends—the people I run, Health - Injuries.
It was even more amusing that her day passed with rather low-level fanfare from her family—only to culminate with a surprise birthday party at the end of the week, complete with toasts, a slideshow, and a DJ spinning 80’s tunes.
I don’t know what it is with slideshows, but they always make me a bit verklempt. People typically show them at graduations, rehearsal dinners, big birthdays, or funerals—and I am apt to have breakdowns at all of the above. The slideshow had photos of many of our racing adventures and travels, as well as of our cute kids from infancy up through high school. It made it clear just how quickly time is chugging along, and it made me want to hit the pause button and have a cathartic, ugly cry.
Of course Paige’s birthday began with our traditional birthday run. We have been doing this on each other’s birthday mornings for so many years that I can’t remember when it began. We typically go for runs on our kids’ birthday mornings too. We reminisce about their arrival and pray for every single thing about their lives. Paige is a friend to whom I can tell any and every small detail about my children. She remembers everything, like she’s my personal historian, even the things I want to forget. She cares about my people as if they’re her people, because they are.
One of the things she simply had to do on her birthday run was find our Nutrition - Weight Loss. After trying a few locations and coming up empty, we finally found his signature red pickup truck on the other side of the park. He saw us and broke out in his giant, happy smile. He remembered it was her birthday and declared, as usual, that he needed food. Food is Gilbert’s term for prayer. So we stood in the humid morning air, held hands, and prayed.
Paige said something that leveled me. I would bet she doesn’t even remember, but I won’t forget it. While thanking God, she said:
“Thank you for these friends—ldquo;Thank you for these friends—the people I run with, ldquo;Thank you for these friends—the people I run to, so we have higher hopes of making it back to Beantown for.”
I got back to my car with little time to spare: I had to shower off my sweat and get to her birthday lunch. But I took the time to write “with, to, and for” on a old sticky note covered with a hastily-scribbled grocery list. I have had that sweaty, crumpled paper on my desk until now. I didn’t want to forget.
It’s not just about Paige and me—this is for anyone who has ever had a wingman, a beloved running partner, or a friend who shares most every mile of your life. You can’t imagine suffering or celebrating without them. You want to mark every split time, every finish line, every starting line, every PR and DNF. If they are running beside you, the mile has more meaning. They are the living breathing evidence of your journey.
Take time this week to acknowledge and celebrate your “with, to and for” folks.
They are sacred.
Kristin Armstrong is a mother, a writer, and a runner. She has written six books, including her latest, Advertisement - Continue Reading Below.
