Like Friendship Bracelets
Whenever I pass through Union Square in San Francisco, I get yanked back to October 18, 2009. I’m standing shivering in a corral about to start my first marathon. I’m a ball of nerves. I have no idea if I can run 26.2 miles. I’m certain that my current state is as good as I’m going to feel for the next several days, though I completely under appreciate how bad this is going to hurt.
I trained for the race with a charity running team and my coach is out on the course. I’ll see her several times throughout. I’ll run a big long downhill with her around mile 11, beaming at the ocean views and thrilled with how good I feel. Things continue to go downhill after that, but somehow I find my way across the finish line several hours later. That night, in celebration, we’ll have a glass of wine at the bar on the top floor of the hotel. I’m profoundly grateful for her. When things got painful on the course, I knew she was out there. I trusted that if I could just keep making forward progress, she’d hop back in with me and help me get where I was trying to go.
This afternoon I went on a long bike ride with this same women. We reconnected recently at a coffee shop after years of only intermittent run ins around town. We told her about the ride we’re doing this summer and about how we’re raising money on behalf of my brother-in-law who recently received a cancer diagnosis. She said, Count me in. She’s survived her own cancer journey. She understands and her response is reflexive. She steps away on her phone then returns a few minutes later to let us know she’s procured a bike.
Today we took laps around roads that hug the coast. She’s a new rider and this was her first time using clip in pedals. A fellow riding with us cramped up and fell off the back of the group. I was near him, she noticed his absence and turned around, instinctively. As she made the turn, her tire went slightly off the pavement and was submerged in soft sand. She tipped over, but quickly popped up -- ever in good spirits. Well, I got my first fall out of the way, she said. Our friend was fine, so we hopped back on our bikes and caught up with the crowd.
It’s not quite right to say that it felt like a full circle moment. Her pulling me through my first marathon a decade ago, me dusting the sand off her leg after her first fall today. It’s more complex than that. It’s more like weaving. Like the forwards and backwards knots of friendship bracelets. The patterns and colors and richness of the moments that emerge when women step into one another lives in times of need -- when they say count me in.
Happy International Women’s Day.
