Long-distance running

the long-distance run of an early morning 

makes me think that every run like this is a life -- 

a little life, I know -- 

but a life as full of misery and happiness 

and things happening as you can ever get really around yourself

                                                   -- John Sillitoe, The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner

Carol's doctor has said on more than one occasion in the last several months, "it's not a sprint; it's a marathon." And just as in a marathon, Carol's experience changes as she goes through it. There are times when she has felt energized by the support and love from others, and there are other times when she has had to draw upon reservoirs of faith, hope, and optimism she has inside herself. 

This week, when a blood test came back not as positive as she had hoped it would, was one of those times. Reminding herself that she just ran a half-marathon on Sunday, that she is able to get out and do all the things she loves to do physically, that her recent scan bore positive news, that all other blood tests to this point have gone in the right direction -- that all was a little harder this week. But she's doing it. She amazes me. Again and again.

And as for all of you -- you are all taiko drummers, at the bottom of the hill on Battery Street at the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington, beating the hell out of those big drums and helping to propel Carol up the hill while she goes through her own journey. Thank you so much.

One of my uncles gave me The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner when I was eleven or twelve, and I remember wondering why he gave it to me and whether he thought I was a runner (I wasn't), or if he thought I might be a runner at some point, so I had better be prepared for those bouts of loneliness that came to all long-distance runners at some point.  

Thanks to Uncle Vin, Jerry, John, Jack, Rich, or Bob for the book, and to all of you, for lessening the impact of that loneliness.