Mary Eggers

Date archives October 2017



Driving rain, wind so strong I had to lean into it. It was cold but not freezing. There was something endearing about it all, something that didn’t cause me to dread stepping out into it, but rather something that drew me towards it.

After all these months running doesn’t hurt anymore. I have kept it so easy and allowed my body to just come along on its terms. Every step feels like the privilege it is. It feels so good not to be chasing something that has happened. It feels so good to be moving forward, it feels so good to be this close to being back in the game.

There was this moment in that driving rain and wind, a sudden moment. Where the trees ahead caught my eye. The one on the left was bright bright orange. The one across the street from it a deep shade of red, somehow framed by the yellow and red that stood behind it. The brightness and the beauty was a stark contrast to the grey that surrounded all of it.

I can’t help but smile in those moments. Experiences like this are the biggest reason I am out here. The treadmill would have been easier today for sure. The rain isn’t always the safest option. But had I chosen to stare at the wall for these miles, this is what I would have missed.

I don’t think much about running when I am running. I don’t think about too much at all actually. I feel. I experience. I absorb what’s around me. There are so many moments when I find myself… toe to toe with myself. It’s not about who has to win. It’s not about who is stronger. It’s answering the question….. in the dark moments am I able to be with myself? Am I able to trust myself? Am I able to like myself? When all else has fallen away, can I sit with myself?

The answer is yes.

In those moments I realize that I am stronger than my storm.

We all have a storm. I am not interested in comparing whose storm is stronger. Whose storm is worse. Whose is the most traumatic. When we compare what we’ve been through to others we are just getting into a silly pissing match that no one gets to win. Our storms are our storms, and they are deep and real to us. Rather than compare and compete about it, reach out your damn hand and help one another.

You realize in those moments that all that truly matters is just to see each other through it.

I realize in these moments when I could have chosen to stay safe and to stay inside, that it’s really not about running. In my life, I tend to head towards the difficult stuff. I like to dive into the middle of it. It’s never pretty, it’s never easy but every single time…. it’s worth it.

Had I stayed inside I would have never seen the colors as I saw them that day. Had I stayed inside I would have never felt the perseverance as I did that day. I would never have realized how far I have come since last spring. I would never have had that realization that I am in fact, strong again.

Running, sport, it’s all just a metaphor for life. Or maybe, life is a metaphor for sport.

Either way…… I know that I am wired to head into the belly of the storm. It’s just how I operate. One hundred percent of the time…. I see things I wouldn’t otherwise see, I hold hands I wouldn’t otherwise hold and I feel gratitude that is impossible for me to feel when I take the easy route.





Maybe it’s because I am not new to all of this. Maybe it’s because I am older, and so much wiser. Maybe it’s because my sense of self… which has always been strong… is stronger than ever. Maybe it’s because I knew enough to take the break. Maybe it’s because I worked to overcome the overtraining issues that I allowed myself to dig deep into when I walked away.

Maybe it’s just because.

A lot is different this time around. I didn’t write a script for the chapter where I unretire from a lifestyle I retired from, swearing it was for good. Then again we don’t really get to write the script. We aren’t always in control of the narrative of where our passions and hearts lead us. Maybe we just have to stop placing barriers and blockades in front of paths in our lives that are emotional to travel or have broken us to the bone.

Remember that sport is a metaphor for life. How we do small things is how we do all things. If we say “never again” to a path in sport, what are we saying in terms of our lives?

I am just about 5 weeks out of the first marathon I will run in 20 years that is not preceded by a 2.4-mile swim and a 112-mile bike. My goals for this marathon were very simple. Get back in shape. Build to 40 miles a week. Long run of 3:00. USe RPE. See if I fell in love with it again.

Check, check, check, check.

I have done all aerobic effort runs, some flat, some hilly. With the exception of a few events, I have done zero speedwork. This marathon, it’s a celebration or me. A supported long run with thousands of other people. I never attach time goals these days, that’s an outcome. I can’t control outcomes, I can only control the process. I am guessing I will run it in about 5 hours and have a little too much fun along the way.

Come December 1st though, the script is going to flip. If I am doing another Ironman, I am doing another Ironman. No pussyfooting around. I still don’t care about Kona, but I do care about having the best possible day I am capable of.

When I said that the other day I thought…. holy hell….. fire lit.

I got really excited. I wanted to somehow capture the moment that I felt “it” again.

I stopped myself. “Hold on Eggs, hold on. This one is for you sister.” (Am I the only one who talks to themselves???). There is no need to selfie it up and share it on Instagram. That doesn’t capture the feeling. Instead, I walked out onto the back deck, took a deep breath in, and closed my eyes.

There it is. That’s the feeling. Right there deep in my heart. No hashtagged picture is going to capture that, only I can be the one to feel it. It doesn’t take “likes” to make it real, it takes me feeling it.

I’m going to protect that feeling fiercely. In a world where I love to share and connect I suddenly feel the need to cover that flame and guard it. I can’t photograph it but I can express it as I express things best. Through words. So you can expect some good Ironman journey stories to come right here.

Each day that I head out to run I either see the sunrise or the sunset. Monday night I stopped for a moment on that one hill, by the light pole. The one where I can see the entire skyline of Rochester. It’s next to that farm with the white dogs. Each time I run by that farm those beautiful white dogs run along the fence with me. I don’t know what their names are but I call them both buddy. I always say hi. I wonder if I am as familiar to them as they are to me.

Right at the light pole I stopped, and I don’t even think I stopped my watch. The sky was breathtaking. Against a setting sun, those clouds were streaked across the sky like someone has brushed a paintbrush across a canvas. They were illuminated with the softest pink hue. And there that feeling was again.

As I continued running I thought to the course of Lake Placid. Lake Placid feels to me like many feel in Kona. There is a magical breathtaking feeling the whole time. Everyone out there realizes it and knows it just as much as you do, that’s why we are there. There is no piece of technology that can capture that feeling and that sense of community, it’s just something you feel inside of your soul.

That’s what I will protect, I won’t let that piece of me get clouded or fragmented. It’s true that when you have the courage to step away you might never have the desire to come back. But you might. I was willing to take that chance. For a long time, I didn’t think it was coming back.

Then in one fell swoop, it did.

Marathon in 5 weeks. Then shit gets really real. It’s been years since I have said that without dread. But talk is easy. Stating what you want to do is easy. Announcing grand plans is easy. Instagramming your fall hero status is the easiest. I am ready for the work part. And this time I am ready for it to be mine.