Chasing Caroline

I'm the eldest of three kids, five and a half years older than my brother, twelve years older than my sister.  The years between us yielded specific relationships when we were younger.  I thought my brother was annoying for the first 10 or so years of his life, but I was also fiercely protective of him, as big sisters tend to be. We pestered each other mercilessly and somewhere in his early teen years, in my first years away at college, we realized we genuinely liked each other's company.

My relationship with Caroline was very different.  She was the baby and idolized each of us, my brother and I, as the babies tend to do. And since I was so much older, babysat her so often, sang her to sleep so frequently, there was a maternal element there, too. I worried about her more than I worried about my brother, probably spoiled her more.  Little girls are easier for a teenage/college/young 20s woman to spoil. ice cream, painting nails, going shopping...infinitely easier than spoiling that smelly, football-playing brother.  But I do remember taking Rob out for many orders of Denny's seasoned fries, so I did my best by him, I think.

I don't know what it's like to be a younger sibling. I don't know what it's like to be the second or third kid to embark upon something.  The first kid who goes to college gets the benefit/anxiety of parental ignorance.  The second and third kid are beholden to wiser parents, for good or ill. As we've grown up, built lives, the "first" of things has shifted, as it should.  Age doesn't determine "first" anymore.  My brother beat me to the altar and I'm lucky to be in a family that doesn't see that as a failure on my part, or an expectation that I'll be next. Adult lives fall into their own frame, influenced by choices made, people met, a wing and a prayer.

And just as the timeline of our lives has begun to take shape without strict adherence to who was born first, so has my perspective on who looks up to whom. I imagine Caroline and Rob will always look up to me in some way, and I will always want to guide them, offer them advice, open my life to them in a way that lets them see what errors I could have avoided, what regrets I might have that they could be careful to not repeat. This guiding sentiment is more acute in my relationship with Caroline. I know what it's like to be a young woman in college far from home.  I know nothing of what it's like to be a spouse, own a home, etc.

Last summer Caroline and I ran the Afton Trail Run 25K together, where we took the picture above. Caroline smoked me by 17 minutes. She finished in 3 hours, 38 minutes, and I clocked in at 3 hours, 55 minutes. It's a brutal course, the hilliest available in this neck of the woods, with steep climbs making running a joke.  Caroline wasn't able to join me this year due to an ankle injury and her pending trip back to Texas for summer school. But I chased her the whole way.  I chased her 3 hours, 38 minutes. And when I was scrambling up a particularly rough incline, tempted to stop, I'd ask myself, "did Caroline stop here last year?"

I finished in 3 hours, 45 minutes this year, still seven minutes shy of Caroline's time, but ten minutes faster than what I accomplished last year, which is no small feat. And as I chased Caroline, or the thought of her, through the woods, I thought of how often she must have chased me, how often she may feel the inclination to still do so. I don't make it clear enough, frequently enough, how much I look up to both of my siblings, how much I respect Rob's humor, intelligence, and his loyal devotion to my sister-in-law. He's a good man, and a wonderful example to Caroline and I of what a good man looks like, should we find ourselves questioning what "good" might encompass. And I'm awed by Caroline's ability to push herself physically and mentally, to get excited about the beauty God placed in the world. I try to mold a bit more of my world into a world Caroline would like to inhabit. Because that's the world I want for myself, too, and her inspirations make me remember to get inspired myself.

I do not know what it is about me that my siblings might look up to, aside from the generic older sibling first-to-do-a-lot stuff.  I don't mean that to be self-deprecating, only that I don't understand what it might be that a younger sibling most latches onto, most strives toward. And I imagine their perspective has changed greatly over the last 27 and 20 years, respectively. I imagine they still chase me, still allow certain decisions to be influenced by things I've done, said, experienced. But they should know that I chase them, too. I watch and marvel at them, at their courage and their curiosities.  And just as I'll continue to chase Caroline in the woods at Afton, I hope we'll all continue to chase the best in each other.  Aside from love and loyalty, blessings that feel so much like luck sometimes, I think that chase, that recognition that those you love are capable of great things and that perhaps you should be, too...I think that's the most beautiful thing.

The Ritual

This poor, neglected blog.  I was so steadfast in my writings for so long, but I've lapsed of late.  I assume blogging is like anything, peaks and valleys, and my focus has been elsewhere.

As has been the case for a few of my last several summers, I'm filling a lot of my summertime with running.  I've signed up for the Twin Cities Marathon again and though I have yet to commit to a legit running schedule, I'm still putting in miles.  Still lining up at race starts.

Tomorrow I'm running the Afton Trail Race (15.5 miles) for the second time.  And as the pizza bakes in the oven, I'm contentedly reorganizing my ipod and putzing around with various other rituals as I tend to do the night before a race.  I love (and loathe) many aspects of running, but the element of ritual is one that I never expected to enjoy.  I don't think of myself as a person that thrives on ritual.  I prefer more spontaneous experiences, if I'm speaking generally, and don't like doing the same thing over and over.  But I suppose everyone is ritualistic in some regard.  I may prefer spontaneity but if I head to church too often without hearing some solid hymns, without mouthing the doxology, there's a part of me that feels empty.  And so it must be with running...

The night before a race I do the following, almost without fail:
1. Eat pizza (Pizza Luce is a favorite but tonight it's a frozen Amy's pizza with some sausage thrown on top).
2. Try on race outfits in response to borderline OCD checking of weather. Shorts? Running skirt? Tank? Tshirt?
3. Lay socks on top of shoes to avoid last minute sock mate searching.
4. Depending on race length, tuck 1-3 GU Orange flavored gels into water belt or pocket.
5. Google map route from home to race, obsess over when I should leave the house.
6. Make sure I have breakfast supplies, buy if necessary (bagel, preferably blueberry, peanut butter, banana, coffee)
7. Find both of my favorite hats: St. Louis Cardinals spring training hat, Tulane Law hat...I never know until race morning which one I'm going to want to wear
8. Charge Garmin.
9. Download a few new songs, load ipod.
10. Drink 2 glasses of water before bed.
11. Fill water bottle and put in fridge.
12. Put spare contacts in outfit pockets based on one experience where I lost BOTH contacts on a long run.

The morning of the race I do the following, almost without fail:
1. Wake up one hour before I need to leave the apartment.
2. Shower (I know! I shower before I get all sweaty, but it wakes me up)
3. Drink coffee, 1-2 cups.
4. Eat half a bagel with peanut butter and half a banana.
5. Throw other half of bagel or banana in purse for closer to race time.
6. Drink 1 glass of water (2 if it's especially warm/humid).
7. Put on outfit #1.
8. Reject outfit, put on outfit #2 because I worry about being too hot/cold.
9. Reject #2 and return to #1.
10. Choose between Tulane and Cardinals hat. 70% of the time, go with the Cardinals.
11. Drive to race with various doodahs (ipod, garmin, water bottle, hat, extra contacts, sunscreen), usually with some type of country or Southern rock on the radio. When in doubt, blast Johnny Cash CD.
12. Once I'm parked, attach race bib.
13. Find a curb for calf stretches.
14. Find a section of soft grass, sit, wait.

During a race:
1. Eat a GU every 6 miles.
2. Find at least one song on playlist that needs to be killed. Proceed to replay it 10-15 times so that I hate it for the rest of my life.
3. Play "Oklahoma" (yes, from the musical) at least 5 times, because that song never gets old.

The afternoon/evening after a race:
1. I procure a friend/loved one to accompany me to a restaurant that serves ketchup. We can eat hashbrowns, we can eat fries, I don't care.  But there needs to be a vehicle for ketchup consumption.

And now you know, without a lot of deviation, what my hours looks like before, during, and after a race, because I know you were dying of curiosity.  If you're game to cheer me on, cheerleaders get prime spots for helping me find ketchup.