Base

"We have to build a bigger base so the whole thing doesn't fall apart."
This is what I was telling my three-year old yesterday as we built a huge, tall, rather skinny and shakey Lego tower. The rainbow bricks were taller than he is, and I knew the frustration that would follow if it all came down, so I was gingerly trying to coax him to increase the base before the meltdown. He wasn't going for the pitch, so I tried again, "If we don't make the foundation larger, the tower will come crashing down." He seemed to better understand this concept and agreed to add some thickness to the bottom.

It occured to me, this is the essence of our training, too. We try to build a solid base so we do not fall apart come race day. But how much base is really enough? Do we really know how many miles we need to log on the bike, in the pool and in our running shoes? We follow schedules and compute the outcomes, but how much base do we need to survive? How much to thrive? We analyze nutrition and read various programs and books, but how much is enough? Too much?

Today at the memorial for Mike's mom, it became clear that base is so much more than just a training base. We have all come from a foundation. Some of us, maybe from shakey foundations, some from rich and solid foundations, but nonetheless, our parents are our foundations. Listening to complete strangers share beautiful stories about Mike's mom, Pat, was truly touching. I sat there, my vision blurred by tears, absorbing details of a woman I never had the pleasure of knowing, but realizing that she was the base for my running friend. I had nothing to share, since I did not have the privledge of meeting her, but something in me stirred. I almost wanting to stand up and tell that room of mourning people that her legacy of kindness and positive thinking will live on because I know Mike. His character speaks volumes of the foundation she was in his life. I knew I wouldn't, but I wanted to speak out just how much he loved her because she was such a driving positive force in his life, and she will continue to be, of course. Our parents teach us how to survive and when we lose one or both, the world just never looks the same. We never quite get over it. There is a vulnerability that becomes so real when we realize how fragile we are without mom or dad.

I would like to be grounded in all things. I would like to be able to continuously lean more on God and on my husband and family and friends for support and the base I so desperately need. Not just for races, but for my character and who I profess to be. I want to be an accurate representation of the love that was instilled in me and the love I have found from my faith. I want my kids to grow up with a solid base for life.

My son's lego tower grew taller than I anticipated. And, more impressive, it stood all day long. I think that was a record in our house.

"Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the Heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast." -Psalm 139:7-10