Running with Jessy

Running with Jessy-

She is stubborn and sensitive. 

Quirky and at times, quick to anger.

I have been berated in no certain terms and to varying degrees due to crossing a street incorrectly, the location of a mudpuddle, the volume of eating pita chips, and once, breathing. 

She is also kind and giving and incredibly intelligent. The way she sees the world challenges me to widen my own views. Since the day we met, I have laughed harder, worked smarter, felt a fire of passion for myself reignite. I have also loved more deeply, empathized more fully, and grown more complete. 

We are very different. But we share a love and passion for something that allows us to continue to grow and bond on a much deeper level. That shared passion is for running. And I love running with Jessy.

We ran together for the first time after we had been dating for a while. We met at a trail race and walked a lap with some of her friends. We planned to run on our first date, but ended up tracking down a stolen car instead. When I met her kids for the first time, we went to a trail, but ended up watching them ride their bikes instead. 

When we finally placed treads on trails together I was nervous. But our footfalls, though different, and our style and gaits almost opposite, fell together. We talked, and we didn’t talk. We listened to the trees and to each other. 

Since that run, we have fallen into a lifestyle of training together, hiking with the kids, going on walks or jogs late at night or early in the morning. Running is a time for our togetherness. It is also a time for our separate growth. 

We take turns indulging in hours long miles on weekends and arrange schedules so we each get our fill. It is difficult and frustrating and hard to do. But we do it for each other.

In Osage Hills, Ok last June we ran a 50K together. It was hot and hilly and a lot of fun. Well… fun is a relative term.

It was fun turning by a riverbed then traversing up a steep hill, but I was unaware that she had tripped on the wet slap and fell behind just a beat, but one beat when kicking up an incline turns into several quite quickly and I was a ways ahead before I heard the shout, “fine then!”

I stopped and turned and saw no Jessy. Whoops. I waited a short moment before she stalked around a bend to me. I plead my case. We moved on, but it happened again. This time I sallied forward with another runner behind me for a bit, thinking the footfalls I heard were hers. Again, I heard a frustrated call through the trees. Again I waited and explained. Again she was quite sullen. 

We made a plan to take turns who led the pace and thought up a way to check on the runner behind so neither would get left. It may seem silly, but one moment watching the other run away after spending hours of high exertion in the sun is quite demoralizing and hard on the psyche. 

With a plan in place, we ran. And had that fun I mentioned earlier. I was so proud we could do this together. Crossing the finish line with her hand in mine made me feel more human and more accomplished than most things I have done my whole life. 

Another race, we were signed up for separate distances. She was to complete in a 60k night run and started at 7pm. I was doing a shorter distance, 30k, and started at 7:30pm. The night race aspect made it an extra challenge for me because I am horrible at night running. My vision is poor and I get spooked alone in the woods quite easily. Jessy is a great night runner, but as soon as she set off, trouble struck. 

Though the sun was down, it was still a hot Texas night and electrolyte imbalance became a swift enemy to Jessy. Excessive potassium and manganese and sodium sat in her blood stream, stubborn as her, refusing to absorb. Swelling hands and lead feeling limbs told her this was the case. 

When I took off for my race, I took off at light speed. The sun went down about 40 minutes into my run and I had to get away for the boogie man that was alive and kickin in my imagination. When I caught up to Jessy, she was blankly staring at a sign, standing still in the middle of the trail. 

“Jessy?”

Her hello came out slurred and hollow, but still happy. “I am glad to see you!”

We ran the remaining 9 miles of that race together. My boogie man went away and her muscle aches? Though they remained, at least she had a distraction from them. We finished this trot hand in hand. She was frustrated, but I was happy. It was another feat we did together. 

In life, it is hard not to sprint forward and do all the things alone, because that is what I know. That is how I functioned for 30 years before I met her. But running with Jessy has taught me to stop sprinting. Start looking at trees. Hear other people’s stories.

Running with Jessy makes me a better runner. 

Running with Jessy makes me a better person.