Come Hither, Hurricane.

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Today I called a meeting.

I wanted to find all of the fears before they caught up with me out there, before they could ambush me and begin dismantling everything that I’ve been building for the past six months.

I asked Body first what it feared the most about tomorrow's marathon, and it squinted and stiffened and looked away from me as if to suggest nothing, but something. Body is never comfortable with discussions like these. It fidgets and defends until it believes that there is no such thing as fear, only risks to take. It shifted in its chair as it looked at the floor and twirled its hair like each time before and then finally, quietly, Yes, I'm afraid. I don’t want to be weak, and I don’t want to break.

Mind tried to reassure Body, and this was strange to see because they’d only ever fought and tossed blame at each other in the past. I’ll remember the gels and the water before you have to ask, and I’ll look for the shade, especially on the hills. You’ll be OK. I’ll watch out for you. And just like Body - too proud to say it, oblivious to the fact that the eyes had relayed it, I know, Mind. I know you will.

And with that Mind nonchalantly gathered a notebook and a pen and started to plan, and plan more still. But Mind was anxious and jumpy and scribbled all over the walls while making to do and to pack lists. It started them over and over and over again because there was just too much at stake to make a careless mistake.

They had to be perfect and the scratched out places made too much noise, so collected and crumpled they were tossed aside. But I noticed that in the margins and in between the lines of those crumpled up drafts, the letters buried and hurried and crooked with that nervous laugh, Yes, I'm afraid. I don’t want to be weak, and I don’t want to break.

Well, this was a start, I thought, as I thinned my lips and smiled and nodded, but Mind was only half paying attention as it sat there wrapped up and guarded. And at this point I knew that there was nothing else I could do, so I braced and I hoped and I turned then to Heart.

It was sitting backwards in the kitchen chair facing us all, watching us return to ourselves and to each other as if entering a childhood home so many lifetimes later. We fit here together, but we didn’t, and it wasn’t because anyone had done anything wrong - we had just forgotten what it was like to be this close, to see this closely and to be this closely seen. And on the eve of this race, perhaps that’s what we feared the most.

But, there in the chair Heart was brave and wise and passionate and alive, and when it finally spoke up Mind stopped scribbling and Body stopped shifting, and as I was listening I began to see.

In risk there is opportunity, and I am not afraid. I have weakened before and I have broken before and each time I have survived and come back stronger than before. So, of these things I have no fear. I only want a memory.

I want to be pulled and tested and fully arrested and I want to believe that at any given moment there is no more that I can take. I want to hear the walls creak and feel the earth give way beneath my feet under the enormity of my destiny. And I want the suffering and the pain and the doubt and the blame and when I have battled it all and wiped my face clean, it is then when I will have earned my victory.

And with that came the breeze and a few drops of rain.

With that we were ready.

Come hither, Hurricane.