by Aviator
Originally published in www.leavingapath.com.
I started this race report on the plane from Washington, D.C. to Omaha. I was writing old school….on a pad and paper I had purchased at the airport. I sat in my seat, sun setting, the lights dim in the cabin just staring at the blank page in front of me.
Where do I begin? How do I even begin to articulate what I had just experienced? My chest heaved, I welled up with tears… again. To clarify, I’m not a “crier” it’s just not in me to get emotional easily and here I found myself unable to keep it together to write a word. In haste, I wrote three sentences and stopped. It was all I could manage. I balled up the paper and tried to start again, finally abandoning my effort and retreating to my iPod and the comfort of the music. I looked out the window, the sun sinking ever lower, my heart light, and my legs exhausted. Tears came again without words, without reason. A upwelling from a place I hadn’t been in a while, and I closed my eyes holding the feeling that seemed to warm me from the inside out. Exhale. Sleep came.
Race reports would rush in over the next few days and the crumpled page from the flight

The memorable pieces of the nearly 6 hours spent on the mountain are vast and extend beyond the physical challenge of the obstacles or racing itself. It was the start line and pushing Margaret forward to toe the line with the group up front, a place she felt unsure of joining. The moment when she turned and disappeared in the crowd at the front, she was right where she belonged there. She’d earn 3rd overall female that day. A place she more than deserved.

It was the glance over my shoulder at the first summit and the landscape that lay out before me. A breath-taking view of the mountain and of the price one would pay to see it extending out the sky meeting the mountain tops, the valley a distant painting of Monet smudges below us. Uttering to my race mates, “This is why we do it, this moment. That view is earned.”
It was the low barbed wire crawl and meeting eyes with friend and photographer Brent,


It was watching Alyssa charge into the water, the same water she had been fearing for days, and making

It was Monica’s constant smile, encouragement, cheering loudly and racing bravely with three women she had just met. Carrying water, food, and fuel, sharing everything she had generously and without a thought. Her grace astounded me.

There was a moment with Alyssa, Monica, and Katy just after the finish where the goose bumps rose up on my skin. No words were spoken, just a look, and all our eyes meeting. It was everything and it was exchanged effortlessly without words. We are bonded for life.
The post-race moments passed in a blur. The other women quick to join and congratulate our finish, Margaret, proudly baring her sword trophy, Lisa Madden so full of praise and encouragement. My dear friend Maurya, who braved so much of the trail alone and emerged facing down some of her toughest obstacles and finding out what she’s capable of achieving.
Back on the plane, I awoke with the jolt of the turbulence and stretched my already aching body one muscle group at a time and smiled in spite of myself at how it felt. By now, the skies were dark and I was nearly home. Sitting down three days later to finish this post, I feel like a lifetime has passed. It astounds me how the singular act of crossing a finish line could have such effect. I finished a different person. A better person.
And my three sentences that were the only thing I could manage to articulate on that journey back will resonate with me, with this race, with this experience for the rest of my life.
Here is what I wrote:
“I don’t know how to explain the magnitude of what I experienced inside this race and of what I feel after having done it. So, I have to leave so much of it on the mountain. What remains, what I bring with me, will forever remain wordless… but I will emerge forever changed.”
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