Which way do we go?

913 run/ 87 left to go

I broke through the 100 mile mark late Sunday evening. It was a huge moment, more emotional than I'd anticipated. Nearly one year ago, I was at the bottom of a mountain, I'm close to summit now and am feeling pretty sentimental about the climb.

A few years ago, my friend Susan finished reading a piece I'd given her. Susan's editing skill is unmatched and her final note was one of the best pieces of writing advice I've ever gotten:

"But what does it MEAN???"

My writing brain has always sought larger truths from littler stories, but she highlighted the importance in the face of my sometimes meandering stories of clarifying meaning as I wrote. As I look over the last several posts, I see stories whose meanings are made clear; the themes of kindness and forgiveness and the directive to do the best you can, to seek truth despite or in the midst of pain. They feel neat and tidy, they are as I have meant them to be.

But there is another truth. It is that this year has been a brutal one. It has been messy and painful and, to be honest, is too early to seek order. I've struggled, in terms of privacy, with how to address the fact that when I talk about the salvation of soul stirring kindness and love, I'm talking about salvation in the most immediate sense.

A friend of mine who is weathering his own personal storm, recently sent out a mass message of thanks for a bunch of birthday wishes he'd received. I know a bit about what he is going through, though not everyone does, and was deeply impressed with the grace with which he was able to address all that he and his family are going through. Plagiarized slightly, his eloquence: "We are healthy, and, well, in uncharted territory."

He nailed it.

The bad news about uncharted territory is that I have a notoriously crappy sense of direction, the good news is that I have (often laughably) unflagging faith that I will end up where I am supposed to be. A few years ago, I was in Amsterdam. I love Amsterdam. First time we ever drove in, it felt like home, like Saturday morning with coffee and the paper. Paris is breathtaking, Rome is magic, Amsterdam felt like home. Still, I admit, I really can't figure my way around so well which is mostly ok when you're in a pretty place.

We met our friends Liz and John one evening and proceeded on to cocktails, dinner and a post- dinner toke or seven at a sweet little cafe where I know we laughed a lot at things that may or may not be so funny today.

We left the cafe having walked a fairly circuitous route from the B&B hours before, but still I felt absolutely sure I knew how to get us back. I walked, arms linked with whoever was next to me in the cold blue night. Moonlight, streetlight and Redlight spilled into the wind chopped canal water that wound along with us as we made our way from Here to There. My instincts for left were generally met with arguments for going right, and eventually we found our way to the front steps of our B&B. Liz still laughs when she recalls my reaction, upon realizing that we were finally indeed standing in front of our place: "See! I TOLD you I'd get us home!"

I did get lost once by myself in Belgium on a run. It is an hours long story involving a forest and my poor map reading abilities, but still, I never panicked. I always figured I would find my way, and so far, I always have.

I have 87 miles left. The actual miles I run for the 1000 mile project are straightforward and easy to navigate. Mentally they have come to fortify me through frightful unknowns that threaten my sense of direction and well being. The runs have shown me right from left in this uncharted territory. For that blessed direction, and for those who have weathered my storm with me, my unending gratitude. We should meet up in Amsterdam sometime, I'll show you around.

Be well

Jenny