Slow and steady wins the race. Learning about pace is one of the hardest things a runner can learn. My addiction to my garmin and a year with the San Diego Track Club taught me everything I know about pacing. Add 8 more years of running and a ton of enthusiasm and I felt cautiously optimistic about pacing my first 10k this past weekend. I would be pacing the last pace group, 11:15 pace or a goal finish of 1:10.

I practiced for several weeks, going out to maintain an 11:15 pace for 5-6 miles on my usual courses. On race day, I planned to wear two watches. One Garmin for current pace and distance and one Timex for chrono and self marking for each mile. I met the team of pacers on a bright, beautiful spring morning. I took my spot at the start of wave 4 with my giant 1:10 sign waiting to see if anyone would join my flock. My desire to do right by these folks was deep. Having the added pressure of being the only one in the field wearing a bright orange shirt marked 1:10 just added to the nervous excitement. A few folks introduced themselves and I to them, we took our spot at the starting line with a woot and a holler and off we went.

Along the race course, I was my usual self-chatty, encouraging, loud, and filled with dance breaks. Also along the way, I was meticulously calculating each .25 mile. How was our pace? Are we too fast? Too slow? Should I account for that “rise in the pavement?” I had great feedback from my team-lots of thank you’s and laughter. Each mile seemed to fly by-at a nice 11:15-11:20 pace. In my mind, I knew we would get to mile 5.75 and the steep downhill would allow runners to finish strong. So as we approached that spot, I wished many of them farewell as they flew our 11:15 nest and took off. I continued to shout encouragements all the way down. I finished in 1:09:47. I feel like 13 seconds differential is a pretty good first shot at pacing a race.

It was after the race that I felt such deep pride for the runners from our flock. Many said encouraging things like, “this was my first 10k race” and “I have never run all 6 miles before” that just made me gush with delight for them. The best reward for pacing this group was to know that they had met and exceeded their race goals. It was awesome. I am so proud of them.

I can’t wait to pace again!

Tonight I’m making a batch of Chocolate Chippers for tomorrow’s long rehearsal of Thomas Circle Singers . I love these traditional, tasty chocolate chip cookies. They are a bit salty, sweet, and when made just right, slightly chewy. So delicious. Every time I make these I think about the woman who gave me the recipe, my former colleague, Gloria.

She was a fantastic first grade teacher. Knowledgable, patient, humorous, and caring woman. She and I had lunch many a day at our little North Kansas City elementary school. We shared stories and she became a mentor and friend. She gave me lots of recipes; I believe with the primary goal of pairing me up with her son. It was in that year of 2001-2002 that I started making these beloved rounds of yum.

I had know that she had bravely kicked breast cancer ass a few years prior. And it wasn’t far after I left NKC for the opera that I had heard she was fighting again. And not long past that, she succumbed to brain cancer. I made the cookies. I wept.

In the passing years, cancer would strike family and friends with its brutal and vengeful sword. It would take my Aunt Nancy, my dear friend Pam, and strike friends in their prime of life. It would rip through the hearts and lives of families. And this week, it took another mentor, Beth, who started as the mom of a classmate and became a shepherd in musical leadership.

I hate cancer. And I’m sure you do too. It has no rhyme or reason. It offers us a chance to know both the unique fragility of the human body and the inordinate strength of the human spirit.

So I make the cookies and every single time reflect on the short and amazing chances I’ve had to learn and grow from incredible people. I offer up silent praises as I measure, sift, beat, stir, and bake. I treasure the cut out-xerox piece of paper that holds this most sacred of recipes. Not for its sweet tooth satiation but for its place in silent memorial of those gone by.

Tonight as the last cookies cool I pray for those who fight, for those who love, for those who care for, for those who research, for those who have not yet fought, and for those who mourn. May the souls of the eternal departed rest in peace. And may Jesus have a whole plate of cookies waiting for our reunion.

Peace.

PS-8 minutes, never 10. If you use butter, used salted!