Rare Find

Your smile is like the arc of the trail

As I run up the mountains in Hawaii

Sweat on my bare skin

and a breeze fluttering

through the tropical leaves

My heart is beating hard

As the trail climbs upward

Leading to a place I want to explore.

You told me about this trail

that it would be a good place to run

as you showed me around the apartment

I'd be living in for the next week

while I was on the Island

for the HURT 100 mile race.

I couldn't help but notice

how your blond hair

Rolled over your surf tanned forehead

Like a wave on the shore.

"Did you say there was a way to track your race?"

You showed up at the aid stations with that smile,

Holding my wet pack, and all I could think

Was how bad I must look:

40 miles ... 47 ... 80 ... 87 miles on my tired legs

Legs that felt like they were made of glass

Slowly shattering

My long braids matted and framing my face.

Mud like armor covering my arms and legs

Telling of a internal battle in the jungle

My mind compelling my body further.

Just to see what was possible.

Morning turned to night,

Night into morning

My legs becoming roots

that cover the trail.

I'm sitting on the plane flying home

Thinking of you standing next to me at mile 92,

A hydration pack on your back

Your fingers clasped around the straps of your pack

You looked like you were ready to hit the surf,

not pace an impossibly dirty runner 8 miles

to a 100 mile finish.

Somehow with you there

it didn't even feel like I'd run 92 miles.

"This shell reminds me of sunshine

It's a pretty rare find"

You told me as you handed me two handmade silver bracelets

you made for me on the day I left the island,

Each bracelet with a beautiful smooth shell

contained within the silver band.

Waves had brought the shells from the depths

of the ocean to where you were diving.

As I sit here on the airplane looking at the shells

I think about how you welded the silver together

after threading it through the shells

No clasp or closure,

Just one continuous silver band

Going through the spiraling shells

These endless bands around my wrist

makes me hope

that maybe we can run together again

This time from the start of a race,

not just the last 8 miles

1/23/19