Mystery solved

The first time that I saw her pass, I looked up and down the block to see if there was a marathon in progress that I was not aware of. I actually did. Up and down the block. Was the Kenyan team about to round the corner? Nope. There was no one else, so back to my daily battle with the dandelions I went.

An hour later, there she is again! Running shorts, running tank, hat, 4 minute mile pace. Was there a number pinned to her back? I couldn't tell, she was too fast. She was there and then she was gone- leaving only dust lingering in her trail.

It's evening, I'm relaxing on my porch swing enjoying a gin and tonic. What's that? I can make out only a movement in the shadows, I watch. It is short in stance, thin and fast. It's her! This time, she's across the street on the running track. So fast. Around and around. I sit there and watch. I watch her for at least an hour. Nothing changes in that hour except for her direction on the track. Her knees must hurt.

This goes on and on, for about 2 months. Always alone, no running mate, and at a pace that looks to me to be a 4 minute mile. She's short and extremely fit, with a keen resemblance to a gazelle- a woman gazelle. Always looking forward, in the zone- as though Catherine Ndereba might be on her heals.

I'm at the dog park with Dyggs. A woman is telling me about a neighbor who ran the Chicago Marathon this past October. It was her first marathon ever and she was going to win- she actually thought that she had won. It's a quarter mile before the finish and she's still running her 4 minute mile, she gives a high five to a spectator, never breaking her intense gaze forward.

then suddenly

Those of you who know me know that I'm, well, curious. O.k., nosy. I have to know, I must know you're story. Everyone's got story. No one is an enigma. That would be a waste of a life.

This woman almost killed me with her 4 mile pace- no story-enigma like life. She was too fast to run with, even too fast to greet- that is, if she was even capable of noticing you through her intense gaze.

I told my sister this story, because she also ran the Chicago Marathon. She, being a curious one too, found the youtube clip above and sent it to me.

I opened it and watched. I almost fell off my chair. "Holy $#%*! It's her! The Enigma!" I screamed! Chris came running. "#@*$! It is her!" He screams back.

To this day, we sit on our porch swing enjoying our coffees and tonics, and we watch her pass in the morning, and in the evening. A gazelle like 4 minute pace. Eyes glued onto the molecules hanging on the horizon. But I can now understand. I have her story, all the story that I need. She is no longer an enigma.

She is an 'almost champion'. That's gotta kill. It's gotta leave a mark- a deep, infected mark. I'm sure that her life has been changed for forever and I am positive that she will run until she can no longer run another step.