Finding Gratitude at Forty

Charlie and Shannon

Submitted by Shannon Slater

It all started with an 11-hour drive to my husband’s annual family reunion. I had far too much sedentary time on my hands to stay out of trouble for very long. If you’re like me, on any given day you focus on family, work, exercise and sleep, rather than true contemplative thought. And so the van ride was a luxury in a sense— all day long with nothing to do but read and think.

I had brought magazines to keep my mind occupied. Among them were back issues of running periodicals, passed along to me by friends. That’s where I found the wonderful piece on Boston Marathon Race Director Dave McGillivray. The article explained that Dave commemorates his birthday each year by running the number of miles that correspond to his age. What started with a 12-mile run at age 12 had grown to a 54-mile run in 2008. The author made it sound so easy, suggesting that Dave just laced up his shoes and ran for 54 miles.

Riding along in the van, I savored this amazing accomplishment. I thought ahead to my own 40th birthday, only six weeks away. What was I going to do to celebrate my birthday? Wasn’t turning 40 kind of momentous for most folks? Why couldn’t I do what Dave did? Wouldn’t it be incredibly meaningful if I, a cancer survivor, could do a 40-mile birthday run to celebrate being alive?

My brain swirled with possibilities, getting more excited by the moment. Never mind the fact that at the time I was running only four miles each weekday. I had once run a marathon, but that was years ago. And so I checked in with my running gurus, Sharon and David Horner. (Sharon began running in her late 40s and participates annually in a 12-hour New Year’s Eve run. David is a respected personal trainer and recently finished 10th overall in the grueling Badwater Ultramarathon.)

Their answer came back— yes, I could safely train for a 40-mile run, but it wasn’t recommended in such a short time frame. It would be tough— David suggested doing a 20-mile run that very weekend to jumpstart my body to long distances. He said I could walk/rest as much as I needed, but it would be important to do the whole 20 miles. And most importantly, I would have to listen very closely to my body to prevent injuries.

And so it began. David’s training program was simple— it involved maintaining my weekday mileage, adding a 20-mile run each Saturday, and gradually building up to a 20-mile run on Sunday. David’s theory was that once I could run 20 miles two days in a row, I’d be ready to tackle the entire 40-mile distance. Over the next six weeks, I learned about icing my knees and how to take pre-run ibuprofen. Sharon taught me stretches that miraculously eased my tightened legs.

At first, my husband was wary of my getting hurt. One cousin told me that she hadn’t run 20 miles cumulatively in her life. Family members thought I was crazy— what was I thinking, they wondered? But as they saw my complete confidence in the training schedule, everyone came around. I stayed injury-free, and my enthusiasm and self-empowerment grew. Friends started teasing that they would bring cow bells and set up lawn chairs to cheer me on.

The big day came on Easter Sunday. That was meaningful to me, as I was born on Easter. My plan was to run throughout the night, hopefully finishing around daybreak. I had been warned that the challenge would prove to be more mental than physical. In order to keep my mind occupied during the run, I decided ahead of time that I would need something that would take a very long time to ponder. Something infinitely positive. That turned out to be reminiscence. As I began to run, I thought back as far in my life as I could, tried to name everyone I could remember ever encountering, and recalled something that I appreciated about each person. I gave thanks for everyone. Amazingly, six hours flashed past before I even looked at my watch!

As I began to tire toward the end, I heard a soft voice through the darkness. My dear husband, not wanting to startle me, had staged himself along the route and made his presence gently known. He was singing “A Beautiful Morning.” My spirits soared. I had renewed energy. Tim and our two dogs spent the last hour there— encouraging me and then celebrating as I finished.

Forty miles. I had done it! To this day, I treasure the experience as life-affirming. Instead of feeling depressed about a milestone birthday, I found immense gratitude. If any of you are considering embarking on your own amazing adventures, you might find that they’re a whole lot more accessible than you think. A dab of determination and the courage to dream can take you far. Here’s rooting for ya!