It’s been a crazy (insert here: very challenging) week.  Right after my marathon weekend of working, parties and running a half marathon with Elvis and the bananas, my Pathfinder died a tragic death.  On Monday evening, I was driving from Shane’s over to meet Katrina for sushi in the Central West End and the Pathfinder started shaking.  I was convinced it was the transmission and I hoped that I wouldn’t end up stranded on the side of the road somewhere.  I made it to meet Katrina and then eventually we got back to her apartment, where I stayed for the night so I wouldn’t have to drive out 64/40 to West County in the dark.

On Tuesday morning, I was headed for the dealership for a fortuitously scheduled appointment to get my heat fixed.  On the way there, not only did the shaking get worse, I had full on smoke coming from the hood.  Oh dear Lord, please just get me to the dealership.  I was so happy to turn off of Manchester onto the Nissan property, I almost cried.  But it wasn’t until an hour later, when the news came about my SUV that the tears were unleashed.  The word was that it would cost more to fix the failed radiator, transmission, breaks and rotors than the actual value of the vehicle.  The upside of that, it made it a really easy decision what had to be done.

After leaving my mom a voicemail, I started tearfully trying to figure out what to do next.  I called Shane.  It’s nice to have someone in the business of selling cars when you find yourself in a somewhat desperate position such as I was.  He was on the other line, so I tended to other things until he called me back. Not only did I need to buy a new car, I was currently stranded with an inoperable vehicle.  I enlisted the help of my neighbor, Stephanie.  She agreed to pick the kids up from school and tend to them, so at least I didn’t have to stress about that timing.  I got in touch with Dan (since there is more than one Dan in this post, we’ll call him Dan #1) who was willing to be my chauffeur.  I called Britta and asked her to be my “brain” because I was such an emotional train wreck, I couldn’t think straight (Why is it that hormones have really bad timing?)  We talked through everything that I needed to do and I felt better after a conversation with my sounding board.

I’m 38 years old and this was the first time I’ve ever been through the process of buying a car by myself.  I was terrified.

After what felt like an eternity, Shane called.  He said “Get over here to me so we can handle this.  Leave the Nissan there, we’ll figure that out later”.

Dan #1 showed up in the Nissan lounge to see me having a tearful phone conversation with my mom, and then he transported me around town gathering what I needed and ultimately delivering me to Shane in Creve Coeur.  I spent the afternoon at Plaza Mercedes and drove away with my 2012 Hyundai Santa Fe, which has been named Isaac after my Great-Grandfather.    I found the registration from the previous owner in the glove box and as it turns out he is from the same very, very small town in Illinois that my dad grew up in.  My aunt actually graduated from High School with his mom.  It’s kismet.

The old Pathfinder on the right, the new one on the left…

Strangely, it was really hard to say good-bye to that heap of junk that was my Pathfinder.  Partly because it was fun to drive and had lots of great road trip memories like out to the Smoky Mountains and up to Racine.  But also, it really lived up to its name.  In some ways, it did actually help me find my path.  It definitely taught me a lot about finding my strength as I had to fight to keep it over the past few years.

On Sunday morning, after the kids went back to their dad’s, I drove my new Santa Fe over to Castlewood where I was supposed to meet Shalini and Shane for a run.  They had gotten there about an hour earlier and by the time I arrived the parking lots were packed.  I kept an eye open for them while I changed into my Cascadia’s.  I saw Shalini and Rosie across the road about to head up Lone Wolf hill.  Surely they were going to wait for me, right? Nope.  But hold on a second, where was Shane?  About a minute later, I saw Shane cutting across the grass before he looped around and came up the road.  Apparently, Shalini had run into Rosie and taken off a little early.  We learned this when we ran into them on the bluff overlooking the Meremac River.  After a few minutes of chit-chat, primarily about the trail marathon we are signed up for in December, Rosie and I determined we would see each other in a couple hours at the store for work, and then we all parted ways.

This is why we all love to run at Castlewood. Can you blame us?!

Shane led us down the long, wooden staircase and then we headed out along the flats by the river.  Somehow, while we ran, I began telling Shane my story.  My whole story.  We bonded.  I told him about some of the traumatic things that have happened to me in life and how that contributed to landing me in a relationship where I ultimately felt totally unhappy and completely trapped in an unhealthy marriage.

Occasionally we had to stop running just so I could finish telling part of the story.  Eventually, I realized that somewhere along the way, we had crossed from the part of Castlewood that is incredibly familiar to me, to a part that I had never even seen before.  I kept talking, telling my story.  He didn’t judge, didn’t ask questions, he just kept leading the way.

Then suddenly he stopped.  And he searched my face waiting for me to realize where we were.  I looked at what was in front of us.  A tunnel leading under the train tracks. A big smile spread across my face.  I had only heard of this place, never actually found it, and Shane knew that. Wes had told me that one time he watched Shane ride through this tunnel on his mountain bike. Which had to be incredibly tricky since I had to hunch way over just to walk through it.  Anyway, Shane led me through the tunnel, trying to scare me with talk of spiders in my hair.  Silly Shane, he still hasn’t figured out that I’m not scared of stuff like that.  When we got to the other side, he said, “Come on, I want to show you something”.  So we started up a fairly steep ascent through the woods over some pretty rocky terrain.  It was only maybe 50 yards at most and then we were at the top.  There was a clearing and we were standing on an overlook just above the train tracks.  It was unbelievably cool.

I went back on Monday to take this picture. And to make sure I could find it on my own.

We only stayed for a second and then we headed down the hill, through the tunnel and back through the washed out area over to the river.  After we came back through the tunnel, I realized I had been to that spot once before but I never quite made it to the tunnel and then I turned around, thinking I was going the wrong way.  I had been so close to finding that place on my own, and yet I just missed it without someone to show me the way.

Sometimes it just takes someone with a little different perspective to take something so familiar and help you see it differently.

Likewise, Sunday night, I got to see the pictures my friend Dan #2 took of me and kids on Saturday at Forest Park.  All of the pictures are amazing, he captured each of the kids totally in their element.  And then I came upon the one he took of me.  I immediately started crying.  I looked so happy.  And I don’t know that I have ever seen myself look that beautiful.  I was shocked.  I see myself in the mirror every day but is that really how other people see me?  Again, sometimes it takes someone else to show you how something that you look at every day isn’t always exactly how you see it.  (Here’s the link to the pictures Dan #2 took:  http://www.littlerubberball.com/gallery/index.php/LJ-Shoot-2013?page=1 )

I got that old Nissan Pathfinder literally the day before I found the courage to speak up and say that I couldn’t stay in my marriage anymore as it was.  Besides my children, who will always be with me, that car was really the only big thing that I had tying me to that part of my life, the old me.  And it stayed with me while I found my strength, my voice, my path.  But there is a season for everything in life.   Now is the season to let go of the past.  It’s the season to take a step forward, not back.  I’m no longer in a season of running away from things, but now I’m running toward my life and all the good things that brings.  I’ve entered a season to start looking at things differently and blaze new paths, even if it takes someone else to help point the way.  There was a season that I wondered if I would ever again be truly happy, but now I know that season has only just begun.