R and J in the USA

We didn’t know much about our Georgia 5K before the word “Go”. 

We knew it was a trail run and would take us through the woods. We knew it was wet and rainy out and that we might encounter a little mud. 

We didn’t know the first half of the race consisted of one after another uphill slogs through those woods. And we certainly didn’t know that, after 2.6 miles of terrain like that, we would come running down a dirt road with the finish line in sight and, about six feet before hitting the finish line, the course would take a sharp right turn back into the forest for about a half a mile of uphill switchbacks. Ouch.

This was not a course anyone was going to run a PR on. Despite its difficulty, it was a fun race. Partly because of the perfectly cool running temperature. Partly because, even when it hurts, it feels good to be in the woods. But mostly because the people were so fantastic. 

Strangers in races often find themselves locking onto each other as the person they want to beat, for no other reason than they are nearby and races tend to bring out the competitive spirit in kids from 1-92. We have many stories from races where it was clear we were that person to someone else as they fought with all their might not to let us overtake them, or vice versa as we worked to reel in a stranger that had been running just so far in front of us.

On this course, where we all found ourselves hurting in the woods together, a different type of bond was forged between strangers. 

Even though it was our second race of the day, we had both come into it feeling strong and ready to do some running. Once Julie got a sense of how much the terrain was planning to fight back, she readjusted her sights to simply running the whole thing without walking, rather than trying to put down any real speed. It turns out, though, just committing to running the whole thing was going to put Julie in a competitive spot for this particular race, as the hills convinced plenty of runners to surrender to the steepness and settle into a comfortable walk. Julie wasn’t trying to go fast, but she was trying to keep running. 

As a result, Julie naturally started passing folks and catching up with others over the course of the first mile. Somewhere in the middle of the race, and in the middle of a particularly unforgiving hill, Julie caught up to a woman in front of her who was also digging deep to keep her gears in motion as she trotted upwards. Julie was first introduced to Cindy’s calves in full flex, muscling up that hill. Though Julie wouldn’t get her name until high-fives and hugs were exchanged at the end of the race, a friendship was being forged on those hills.

As Cindy led the way with Julie just behind, cheers of encouragement were heartily exchanged between the two. “You got this!” “Let’s get up this hill!” ”Come on! We can do this!” The two strangers transformed into a mutual support team, responding with grunts of effort as they worked their way up the hill. When they crested the hill, Julie caught up, even more and was right on Cindy’s heels. 

Earlier in the race, Julie caught up to a boy of maybe 12 or 13 who silently insisted Julie run on his heels for a good quarter of a mile, owning the one-person-wide trail and not budging for an instant to let Julie pass. Cindy took a different approach when Julie caught up to her. She doubled down on the newly formed sense of team she and Julie had formed in trudging up the hill and stepped aside, urging Julie to pass her with a hearty, “You are crushing it! Keep it up! Go get it!”

“Thank you!” Julie exclaimed as she huffed and puffed past Cindy into the next hill that rose up in front of them. As Julie ran by Cindy, holding her small American flag that she carries at every race in each of these 50 states, Cindy called out, “I like your flag!” 

For the next bit of distance Julie could hear Cindy not too far behind. When a hill would come up, Julie would hear Cindy calling, “You got this! You are crushing it! Get up that hill!” Julie was powered up each hill that came by some combination of sheer will and the winds of encouragement Cindy was blowing into her sails. When Julie topped the hill, she turned around and clapped and cheered her new teammate as she hoofed her way up that same hill. 

When we reached that unforgiving late-race half mile, there were a number of folks walking, some of them men Julie had seen whiz by much earlier at a real running pace. As Julie began to ascend the switchbacks, she realized she had not been readying herself for such a finale. She started the long climb wondering if she had enough in the tank to tackle these last hills with the same gusto and commitment she’d brought to the earlier ones.  As Julie pushed to keep running, the two men who had surrendered to walking graciously stepped aside to let her pass and offered encouraging words. There was no competition on that hill, just friends suffering together. Each person that stepped aside for Julie was fully on board for her bold push to tackle the hill running. About a third of the way up those switchbacks, Julie’s muscles argued the counterpoint with a slow, dull burn. Before long, Julie started to fantasize about walking. Soon that fantasy turned into flirting, and Julie found herself slowing down from her canter to a trot, and then to a gentle walk. 

Cindy wasn’t having any of that.

Like a surge of a John Williams epic score (think Star Wars or Jurassic Park music) right when the protagonist is facing a most certain defeat, Cindy’s words burst forth from across the woods in an epic crescendo.

”Don’t you dare! Come on! We only have a few more minutes!”

”The hill is beating me,” Julie pleaded.

For those who know Julie well, they know she responds to a well-placed burst of tough love. Julie LOVES pure encouragement – she thrives on it. Her determination tank runs on a bounty of “I believe in you” and “you got this”. But when things are at their most difficult, Julie responds best to a “quit your whining and get your butt in gear”. Cindy came through in the clutch. She clearly knew that, in that moment, a “you got this” wasn’t enough. It was time to bring out some real a%$-kicking.

As Julie’s determination started to fade into a walk, she heard from behind, “Oh no! I don’t think so! We only have to be in pain for a few more minutes. You are carrying that little flag. This is nothing compared to what others have done to keep us safe. Come on, let’s do it!” This is paraphrasing, but the message was clear: “Don’t you frigging THINK about walking when you’ve already come this far.” That’s when Julie knew Cindy was someone she would want to know after the race.

All of the sudden, Julie felt a rush of strength, or maybe just blind determination with her teammate at her back. Her legs started pumping into gear. From that point on, there wasn’t a single walking step until Julie crossed the finish line. 

It may sound a bit morbid, but often times, when Julie finds herself in a situation that is hard or painful or terrifies her, she thinks of D-Day. “If those boys could run up on that beach to save the world from darkness, I think I can manage – fill in the blank.” Or, “If those boys could jump out of a plane at all, let alone into a battle in a foreign land, alone in the dark, I can handle this.” Well, Cindy must have known that, because she was invoking that perspective at full strength. With Cindy’s tough love and stark perspective coming up from behind, Julie’s pain and difficulty felt infinitesimally small and she pushed on.

This is the great thing about races. It doesn’t really matter that Julie tackled that hill. It has no real impact on anyone anywhere in the world. But, for you and the people around you who are in it, it does matter somehow. Somehow, it feels important enough to fight for, to dig deep for, and sometimes the flames you feel while fighting for it are strong enough to forge fellowship, and even friendship.

Julie finished the race strong and took first place for the female masters. Cindy came in not too far behind, taking first place in her age group. If it wasn’t for Cindy’s encouragement, Julie would surely have lagged behind and Cindy would have overtaken her to claim first place in the female masters. 

It’s a different kind of competitive spirit, a kind that seeks to see the whole team perform at their absolute best. Cindy exemplified that spirit. 

Cindy and Julie high-fived and hugged at the finish line, having come out of the forest as friends.

That was only Chapter 1 of the friendships to be formed. 

Cindy’s husband, Gary, soon crossed the finish line. He and Ryan joined Julie and Cindy’s post-race conversation, and we all found out there was plenty more friendship to enjoy. The four of us got along swimmingly. When Gary and Cindy found out we were from New York, Gary’s laughingly asked us if we could understand him okay. Cindy and Gary agreed that his Georgia accent was even more Georgia than most. We assured him that, in addition to understanding him, we LOVED the sound of his accent and wanted him to keep talking. Cindy had a sweet Georgia lilt, but Gary took the cake when it came to thick Georgia sounds. 

We spent our post-race time getting to know our new friends. Cindy is a gardener by trade. (If you are looking for some help with your garden in northeast Georgia, look for Cindy Burkes.) Julie shared her love for her garden and that her sister is a garden educator and consultant too! (If you are looking for online garden education or garden consultation in the Ithaca, NY, region, look for Jennie Cramer at https://gardenrhythm.com). Julie and Cindy bonded over being equal parts extrovert and introvert – quick to make friends and loving quality people time, but also adoring time alone. 

Cindy and Gary shared with us their love for rural Georgia life. While Cindy loves her Georgia home, she’d been all over the place. Not so for Gary. He proudly stated that he’d never left his little corner of Georgia and had no plans to do so. “I’ve never even been on an airplane,” he proclaimed with pride. Clearly, we love to travel. But there is something neat about the opposite, too, finding such fulfillment in one’s home that it is simply enough. 

Cindy and Gary were both excited to follow our travels. “Now you can travel the country without having to go anywhere!” Julie exclaimed. Gary was all in for that kind of travel, and he enthusiastically accepted the invitation to travel the country vicariously through us. 

Gary and Cindy introduced us to their friend Richard. Before being a Georgian for 30 years, Richard had been a New Yorker. A New Yorker, New Yorker. Richard was proud of his half and half accent – a little bit of Long Island, a little bit of Georgia, and a whole lot of something new. 

Cindy, Gary, and Richard weren’t the only folks we met during the course of our race. Each person we encountered was an equal level of friendly and encouraging. The race director we met before the race had been excited by our story and yelled, “Go 47!” as we ran by, celebrating the fact that Georgia was our 47nd state (it was actually our 42nd state, but it was the thought and spirit that counted). We chatted with people in the line to pick up awards, and the attitude of camaraderie was the same everywhere we turned. By the time we left Danielsville, Georgia, we felt like part of the community in this warm and welcoming little crowd. We went into the woods to race and run, and came out with fellowship and friendship.