savagemama

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.

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The hay is in the barn.

Or at least that’s what our coach says.

We’ve trained since March, we’re four days away from running a marathon and we’re ready. The hay is in the barn, he says.

Our neighbor in Arlee, a life-long ranch woman, told me once when I offered to help her with the lunch she was preparing for 30 or so people, “Oh, honey, I ‘bout got it licked!”

This is one of those things I love about Montana. The sayings.
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Every Sunday morning the training group I run with meets in the upstairs room above the Runner’s Edge, the running store in Missoula. We sit with our coffee, ipods, water, watches that can pretty much predict the future and listen to our coach as he tells us what he has in store for us.

Run against traffic, he says, for Christ’s sake. We’re almost there, he says, be conservative.

As we collect ourselves and our gear a hundred or so of us make our way down a flight of stairs and onto the street. Every Sunday I notice the poster of Steve Prefontaine as I start down the stairs. His eyes are piercing, even in a more than 30-year-old black and white photograph. Nearly every week I have to fight back tears.
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I’ve got a little secret.

And no, I’m not pregnant.

I’m running the Missoula marathon.

I’ve been running with a local training group since early March but have been hesitant, until now, to come out and say I’m training for the marathon. I’ve run long runs, I’ve gotten new shoes. But until a 16 mile run up Miller Creek two weeks ago I was still riding the fence. When I crossed the creek for the final time that day and sat under the shade of an Aspen tree I decided to run the full marathon.

I can do this.

I’ve done it before.
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