We moved in on Friday, September 4, 2004. The next evening there was a block party in our cul-de-sac. It was here that I had the chance to really visit with our new next-door neighbors (who had been so thoughtful as to bring us Hideaway pizza as we were moving in!) Kizzy and I got to talking about how we both enjoyed running, and we were both doing 3-4 miles a few times a week. The following Monday, we became “running buddies.” It started out just for exercise, but by October we decided we should have a goal—we should run a RACE. Not a 5k, or even a half… We were going to do the whole shebang—26.2 miles. We chose the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon, which was set for April 25, 2005. Over the next 7 months, our endurance grew stronger, as did our friendship. I was the training planner (how far to run each time, what pace, etc.) and Kizzy was the motivator. It was because of her that I got my lazy tush out of bed, sometimes at 4:30 am, to run in stupid-cold weather. We were a sight for sore eyes—each of us with 2 pair of socks, cold-weather running tights under long johns under sweat pants, cold-weather running shirt under long johns under a sweat shirt, gloves, head wraps, and stocking caps… And a fanny-pack (yes, a FANNY PACK) full of Kleenex, gum, and chapstick for me.
We came back with some funny stories after some of these early-morning runs. For example, one time we [I] thought our neighbor’s garage was on fire. Turned out it was their Christmas lights reflecting in the window in the garage! Or the time we high-tailed it down the street to avoid being attacked by a dog we [I] spotted up the road. Turned out it was a gas meter.
Then there was the time our husbands were supposed to pick us up after 7 miles out, but instead drove for hours up and down Riverside looking for us, worried that we were dead on the riverbank. Turned out they are just BLIND and never saw us on the trail, so we had to run all the way back into Jenks (so our 7 miles turned into 14) and call their cell phones from the Taco Bell. Then there was the time we were being followed by a weirdo in a pick-up truck through the “bad side” of Jenks. He initially stopped and asked us (this is at 5am, mind you) where we got our reflectors, then continued to circle the block we were on. We solicited a ride back to our neighborhood from two scrawny college guys smoking on their apartment patio. We figured we’d take our chances on them versus the crazy redneck. We made it back alive…
But my all-time FAVORITE running story was the time there was a man lurking in the darkness as we started our morning jog (again, it’s 5am, remember). We had just met in the driveway when I heard a man’s voice holler “Hey there!” from the darkness on the side of Kizzy’s house. I repeatedly screamed for Mike as loud as I could, scrambling to punch in my garage code. We narrowly escaped certain death as we rolled under the door, James Bond-style. The whole time, the scary man was yelling “Trust me! Trust me!” Dude, do we have FOOL written across our foreheads?
Mike sleepily emerged from the bedroom and grabbed a baseball bat as I called 911. The police said that they would send someone to patrol the area. Kizzy then called Jason, who promptly arrived with his hammer and their dog, Jack to hunt down the perp. No luck. All day long we [I] worried about the man lurking around our houses. Had he been stalking us? Was he peeping in our windows at night? This was NOT in my training schedule.
As Mike left the house later on that day, he saw one of our neighbors outside. He felt like he should warn her about the suspect as well. As he began to tell the story (about his crazy wife hollering thru the cul-de-sac at 5am, claiming to have seen [heard] a strange man in between the houses), she began to laugh. Hysterically. Turns out, it was her son Rusty, taking something to the garbage can on the side of his house (which is right next to Kizzy’s.) Turns out, he wasn’t saying “Trust me! Trust me!” He was saying “It’s Rusty, It’s Rusty!” Needless to say, we were an on-going joke around the cul-de-sac for awhile…
Aaahhh. Good times.
We miss them (and Jack) dearly. Jason and Kizzy are the prime example of what it means to have God at the center of your marriage. They laugh together (or at each other, which is very funny to witness), they pray together, and they are raising two of the cutest little boys I’ve ever seen. No other neighbors will ever compare! We’ve lived in KC almost twice as long as we lived in that house, and I still don’t know the majority of my “new” neighbors’ first names. It’s just not the same. Kizzy, thank you for moving into your house, for logging SO MANY hours running with me (and not being scared off the first time I was a little gassy—running does that to you, people!), for being there for us when Mike had his brain surgery, for sharing mom/PA advice, for always making us laugh… and for introducing us to Hideaway Pizza and sweet cream+raspberries+oreos at Coldstone!!!!
March 2005. Kizzy and I after our last long run-22 miles-before the race.
April 25, 2005. Mile 13!I should conclude by adding that Kizzy BEAT ME by like 6 seconds.
Who knew those little legs had so much kick in them at the end!!!
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