The key to a good day

Lucky day: Sarah, Melinda, me, Karen, Monica, Robyn and Joyce; my thanks to Della, too, who was with us every step of the way and snapped this photo a few minutes before I discovered I had lost my key.

Run for a while. Pat the pocket. Feel the key fob. 

Run for a while. Pat the pocket. Feel the key fob. 

Run for a while. Pat the pocket. 

$#%!

No key fob. 

Stress out. Envision a dreadful Sunday afternoon, given that you are at a state park 45 minutes from home with no way to start your car. Imagine finding a way home, juggling keys with your patient husband, trekking to the dealer and spending a lot of money on a new fob. 

Move beyond stress to panic.

Then get lucky.

Get lucky again.

And again.

First, your companions all do a U-turn to come back and help, and you realize the worst part of this whole thing could be that you’re going to take up a chunk of their Sunday because none of them will leave until this is resolved. You frantically search your jacket while one friend pats you down to make sure it’s not tangled in your clothes, stuck to your skin (don’t laugh, that happened once) or caught in your shoe. One friend rifles through your hydration vest. Another thinks to ask a passing runner if she had seen a key fob on the Erie Canal path.

Lucky break No. 1: Yes, the other runner says she saw it 10 minutes ago and left it there, not wanting to move it from the path of any search party. 

Every one of the women you’ve been running with turns to backtrack with you, ignoring your attempt to get at least some of them to abandon this mission and get on with their day. You contemplate the awesomeness of these seven runners who remain by your side in good spirits, while you retrace your steps. 

Lucky break No. 2: You meet coaches from the university’s cross-country and track teams who know that their speedy young runners found the key a little while ago and tried to match it up with the cars in a distant parking lot. They tell you that when no car beeped in response, some of the coaching staff drove the university’s van to the state park, searching for the matching car. One coach assures you they will find your car and leave the key in it. He gives you his cell phone number, just in case. 

Lucky break No. 3: A longtime runner from your training group is back at the park. He calls one of the friends who is with you to say he saw the university people in your parking lot and took custody of your key for safekeeping. 

You and your companions run back to the park, having logged more than 8 miles instead of the 7 you planned on. You realize you’ve spent the morning with seven stellar human beings. You get your key back. You go home and text the university coach to tell him you’ve got your key, and that the morning was a great illustration of why you run­ — it’s the people far more than the miles. He responds that the running community must stick together and wishes you a great day. 

You realize that you’ve already had a great day. At this point, anything more is gravy. Just like that extra mile you ran with your friends. 

My thanks to the Syracuse Fleet Feet distance team, in particular my companions from that morning and Eric, who keep my key safe until I finished my run; and the runners and coaches from the Syracuse University cross-country/track teams. I promise my key will be in a zippered pouch from now on.