Arroyo Seco

The day was hot and the roads were muddy from a fresh rain. It felt like something out of a movie as we mounted “motos” (In the States we would probably call it a cross between a motorcycle and a dirt bike).  3 of us passengers mounted the 3 bikes as the expert drivers led us down the dirt (or often more like mud) road. 

 We passed through fields of cows, pushed open gates to cross into the next path, and the bikes were expertly maneuvered through the rugged path. I honestly never felt worried as I trusted this expert driver to get me to the location we could only reach by moto. I will say, however, that it was completely amazing that they knew exactly which way to turn or when to go straight when there were no indicators whatsoever. We crossed through streams, passed a few who were finishing bathing (clothed, of course, but that’s what they were there to do), and had to demount once and trudge through the mud so the moto could make it up the slimy path where we would remount and continue. 

The fresh wind in the warm air pushed the hair around my face as I smiled and took in the moment. I was on the first moto, so I was the first to arrive. (I do think I may have gotten the best driver of them all?) he dropped me off at the home in the village of Arroyo Seco to wait for the others. They kindly offered me a chair and I began to chat with them. They welcomed me seemingly without hesitation. 

I thought that this meeting could be a challenge since we arrived late due to bad roads (the normal roads, I am referring to, not even the ones we navigated by moto). We decided to cut a few pieces of the event because of our time, but in the end, taking those pieces out did not make the meeting any less valuable. Each place had its own unique moments and responses, and Arroyo Seco was no different. 

Due to our late arrival being around lunch time, we thought maybe the women may not come, or less of them anyway. But little by little they arrived to the small school room and by the end of the meeting we had over 20. They were patient with me as I am certain I did mess up some of their language, but nonetheless, they were the first group to interact with the message and not be shy to respond to what I was saying. They listened intently. They spoke up at times. And more than anything, they welcomed me into their space as one of their own. I was there to share with them that each of them had value in this world and yet through this journey, these women conitnuously reminded me of my worth. It was a transforming time there in Arroyo Seco. 

To end the meeting, we had a time of prayer in a circle holding hands. That was the only village we did that specifically. We usually closed in prayer, but here we held hands. My bright white skin against their dark skin, weathered from the sun and dirt and hard living conditions. Their smiles and hugs will bring me joy (and tears) forever upon remembering. 

Ending with many hugs and blessings, it was time to part ways. I drank in the sight of this little village once more. The palm tree thatch roofs, the bamboo outer layers to the home, the 9 people in one (small) home who first welcomed me, and I knew that one day I would return. Because here was once again the presence of God tucked away in the mountains of Colombia in a tiny village that is unknown to most of the world, but to God holds just as much value as the city of millions. 

 We mounted our motos once again and I let the moments sink in as we passed through the green fields, the muddy path, the streams and the cows. 

On the journey back, we had laughs as Elizabeth fell off the moto and me being on the lead moto said to my driver “Well, I think this proves you are the best of all 3 of them!”  As we continued on and the drivers would mystically and professionally manage the paths, knowing when to let their feet down and slow the moto and maneauver it through the mud as well as when to speed up to make it up a hill or stop so I could get off so that we would not crash…. 

 Arroyo Seco now holds a piece of my heart. I had no idea I had so much space for so many of these people. But they just keep showing up and leaving imprints on me. One experience at a time. 

 

 

 

 

 

Running for Kabuki Awareness

I will never participate in a virtual run. I don't believe in them... I am a traditional runner...
  Until Today.

Today I understand why these virtual runs exist and how they can make an impact. But until I allowed myself to get past the words "never" and being stuck in my traditional ways, I did not understand. I want to explain and share the journey of my virtual run.

 I have been running for 10 years now, but I consider myself a traditional runner, even though not an elite or someone making a mark in the event. I am traditional in the sense of doing a race means showing up, participating, finishing, and having a medal and swag. That is all part of the experience. I didn't understand virtual running and have always more or less balked at the idea, being one immersed in the running business. However, that changed recently, and today as I embarked on my first true virtual run, I understood its value.

 I have a friend whose family is impacted directly with a child who has Kabuki Syndrome. That is not a diagnosis I had ever heard of, but now am learning of it more deeply. It's funny how that works- all these "things" that exist that we never know are a thing until we cross paths with it in life and then suddenly, it becomes an awareness. Perhaps we should all live more aware of the "things" that cross our paths, so that we can better understand the stories of the people around us.

Kabuki Syndrome is a diagnosis only 1 in 32,000 people have. It is rare. But it changes the lives of all those it touches. I don't want to write about it a lot here in this blog because I, myself, am learning of it still. But I share this background to explain how I came to believe in a virtual run.

 So many times I want to do something to help people in my life I love. But I don't know how. I have learned that showing support can speak louder than empty words of advice or pushing money to fix an issue. We all just need to know that others care. As I was made aware of Kabuki Syndrome, I began to google it to learn how I could be a better support. I stumbled across the All Things Kabuki website, which was full of information and links. In the process of browsing the site to learn, I found they have a virtual 5K. Because of my love for running, I poked a little further to learn more.

I thought to myself, with my friend living in Colombia who has this interaction of Kabuki on an every day basis, and me being so far, perhaps this would be a way to show my support. So, I emailed the organizers and engaged in a conversation. I learned about the Syndrome and I learned about the event. The idea on their part was that a person registers and in the mail receives a race bib and medal and has to do the participation between Oct 1-31 because Oct. 23 is Kabuki Awareness Day. While my traditional self caved to the idea of participating, I grew excited to share this with my friend(s). Explaining what a virtual run is was hard, explaining my marathon job is always a challenge for me at times to those in another country, but trying to explain a virtual run was even harder mostly because it was my first time to really participate.

But I was growing excited in this endeavor to show a small ounce of support through something I love. (And for once not being the organizer of it!) When my bib and medal arrived, I chose that I would participate today, as my regular Saturday run. Only I would wear the bib.

It felt a little odd, putting on a race bib with no one around. There was no starting line, no flags, no banners, no finish line. No crowds and no hydration. Just me, my headphones, my race gear and my determination to learn more and support my friends. I set out on my run and soon discovered why a virtual run can make a difference.
 As I entered the park, I had people asking me while I jogged past them, "Is there a run today?"
 To which I was able to answer... "No, I'm participating in a virtual run to raise awareness for Kabuki Syndrome."
   To which they would ask "What is that?"
And while I know next to nothing, I was able to share just the small tidbits I was learning. Then they thanked me and we parted ways. But that happened on a few occasions and I began to understand the significance of the virtual event. I encountered at least 3 people today in the park who asked about my bib which lead to sharing about Kabuki Syndrome. That's 3 (4, including me) who now know a little more. Imagine 100 people doing that!

 At first, when the groups said to post photos to Facebook and such for awareness, I thought, "Cool, that will really help draw attention to it."
  But as I ran in a park and people stopped me, I realized the second significance to it. People are curious, but what they don't see or what isn't shared, can't be known. And a virtual run can do that.

 As I ran this event without a start or a finish line, I thought to myself how people struggling with Kabuki Syndrome don't really have a start and finish line. They have a birth and a death, but there isn't likely as many start and end point significances for them. They mostly just shine bright to those around them and change the lives they touch through their joy in spite of a syndrome. Maybe they don't even have a huge awareness of being different. I don't really know because I am really just learning about this. We define our days by start and finish. Deadlines. Goal and achievements and failure. I think we can learn a lot from those affected and touched by Kabuki Syndrome. I hope to grow in this way myself.

 In some ways, my run was just an average run. Especially after taking a long pause the last several months in preparations for the Air Force Marathon and putting my own runs on hold for others to experience a great one of their own. Today became a time for me to just enjoy the crisp, fall air. To think about my friends touched by this. To pray for them. And to maybe make a small difference in some way, whether by support or by learning or both.

 So, as I have come to learn... never say never. Because today I understood why a virtual run can have a large impact and significance. And maybe will even begin organizing runs a little differently with this mindset gained.

 Kabuki Syndrome is real. The least I could do was use an ability I have and enjoy to reach even a few people about it.
 #AllThingsKabuki
 #Purpose
#Runtoraiseawareness