I ran my first marathon in 2009.  My Nike Women’s Race Report can be found here.  I ran 3 others.  LA twice, MCM once.  I have run at least 8 half marathons.  I have volunteered at Mile 20 water station in LA.  

Yesterday, I did a small stint at a water station for TNT.  Mile 8.5 had me setting up cups of water, gatorade, putting out salt, setting up First Aid.

You see, I ran my first marathon ever with TNT.  And, I was coming back to run Nike Women’s again this fall, and I got a pesky heel, then back injury.  I was not a happy camper.  I left the team, with a promise for Spring.  I joined the Facebook Page, but it depressed me.  I was not a part of this thing.

So, when the call came out to help a little bit for the water station, I said yes.  Because, I’m saying yes now.  To many things. (see last post).

As I waited in the chilly soon-to-be-fall morning, I started to reflect on that first 20 miler.  I remembered Knights Ferry, which we ran EVERY weekend.  I loathed the hills, and the route.  But, I went.  I was always the last in…it’s just my position, and I’ve accepted it.

I waited 90 minutes for my first runners.  Fast ones, they were.  I was so impressed that I forgot to give them a playing card (it was a poker run).  Every 20 minutes or so, groups of runners would come.  And I would give them drinks, play music.

My car battery died and I had to call AAA, but I didn’t care.  Because I was a part of something else.  Something other than my heel and my back and my bills and my kids.  I was part of something bigger than me.   Just a little water station got me thinking about all the water stations all over the country.  About people getting up at 4am to load their cars to come and support and volunteer to help.

About TNT.  About raising money for getting rid of blood cancers.  I remembered hearing my Grandpa’s Multiple Myeloma being named as one of the cancers.  I remember that morning-the morning of my first marathon- running with his name on my arm.  And my cousin’s wife (who is in remission…thank God).

And I remember the warriors.  The ones who are in chemo and radiation and hooked up to needles and given a prognosis that shakes their worlds.  And they fight.

So, when the last group of runners came through, and I looked at my empty table, and I cleaned up my mess, I thought…well, it’s not much.

But, it’s something.

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