BC XC Nats

If you get the chance, if you're lucky to, you'll go through something (which resembles a sort of monotony, but which isn't), another season, another park, another gun shot, another set of overwhelmed breaths, another thread of thoughts which take as many turns as your body does; the spine of the experience is the same, but the details change. If you get the chance, if you're lucky to, you'll find someone or few who influence you to look at a thing which seems an extension of yourself, entirely new.

The Bellingham Distance Project is a year old & we're a fully fledged team. Many bar room and coffee shop meet ups held anxiety about growth, numbers, more than numbers, but breadth, which envelops presence and validity, really.

A few weeks ago, Aly drove up for a workout with Al. We toured the town going from one fall sport-laden field to the next before ending at Western in the center of a lacrosse game with bodies intermittent across all lanes. With my down and slippers set aside, we went through a series of drills learned from bachelor t&f days, teaching "A" & "B" skips in wool socks as foot strikes slapped the track. I stood to the side watching as they did repeats weaving between spectators oblivious to the feminine curves of the 400. It was a kind of moment I knew I'd return to, for whatever reason. Something in that Aly continues to drive from Seattle to Bellingham just to train with us, just to be a part of us, something in the emotion of all of us being too passive aggressive to make room for the work. Also, like, I'm in slippers & we're "B" skipping & I love you & you work hard & all I want to do is lay on soft blankets and listen to you tell me everything. Something like that.

Yesterday at Jericho Beach in Vancouver BC at the Canadian XC Nationals, five of us finished our season, with Al & Aly finishing their first ever. The course. was. in. sane. In all my years running cross, no course compares. It was true. Snow, mud-sucking slosh pits, roots, bark, sharp turns, elongated hills, short hills, with spectator-friendly positioning & aggressive French. When the gun went the field of Canadians took sprint and Ber started laughing, which caused me to laugh at the ridiculous of laughing at the start of a National line. The same Ber who screams "Kitten Mittens" through the woods of a workout. We had a tight group for the first 3k, three of us surging, then both of them escaped me. I watched, Maria a bullet, Ber steady & fighting for place with a ferocity I admired. I focused on me, thought about my own ferocity. A form of it was there, but also a weariness about the future. I felt the earth, I felt a deep faith and appreciation for those before & behind. I loved getting dirty, I wanted to be blanketed in mud, I wanted to fall in, swim like some sort of warp to child-me in the cowfields & muck & mudpies - like, if I'm getting this now, give it to me entirely. But, the future I envisioned held a strong marathon session with no pubic pain & between thinking about the health in my future & the girl in the cowfields, I was half-present at best. We tackled the 8k, a distance most of us didn't know how to dissect.

Photo cred: Tad Davis

The finish. Limping to logs lining the beach, my spikes from wwu seasons were mud-frozen to my socks to my feet, the laces locked. Scott the Fox & Aly stopped what they were doing to help me out of the shoes, to peel back the america socks, to put clean ones on, and into dry shoes. Aly, who had just finished her first season of xc was helping me get my shit together. I tossed the spikes into the trash, closed the lid on it. See: If you get the chance, if you're lucky to, you'll find someone or few who influence you to look at a thing which seems an extension of yourself, entirely new.

We cooled down along the water against a backdrop of mountains in snow & downtown Vancouver in its otherworldly display of mirror-sharp buildings. Changed in coffee shop bathrooms with lattes & tea, then to what just may be my favorite sushi joint, a hole in Richmond with self-serve vats of the most soul-soothing miso and excellent sashimi. Back in Bellingham, Al, Aly & I went for carafes of wine at a new spot to dissect the fragments of our passion. Again & again I saw a thing to be thankful for, in how they see the world, in how they see running or competition, in the things that make up their lives, that brought them to the chair sipping wine beside me. If this is karma, lord honey, I did something right somewhere because I've never felt so loved and ready to love in so many ways.

For Maria Dalzot's race report go HERE!
For upcoming races go HERE!