When you sign up for some fall running at a race like the Green Monster Trail Challenge, you're expecting highs and lows, peaks and valleys.
After all, this race borders the Pine Creek Gorge, also known as the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania that's 50 miles long and 1,000 feet deep.
That's what runner Brynn Cunningham thought when she clicked the button to register.
But that was just the beginning of some unexpected events tied to this race, maybe even a miracle.
Here's what happened...
Britannica defines the word miracle as:
When I signed up for some fall running at the Green Monster Trail Challenge 15k, miracle was not the word on my mind.
Rather, I signed up because the race:
It began in 2015, when I ran my first race after two significant life events that occurred within four weeks of each other:
As a young girl, my dad was my biggest running fan, from the time I swept all the sprint events at a fifth grade track meet.
Two years after that first meet, our relationship became rocky.
Fortunately, I didn’t live with him full time, since my parents had divorced when I was eight years old, but when it was his weekend for partial custody, he began forgetting to show up.
Despite his absent parenting, he managed to attend my high school track meets, and I resented him for it.
I’d hold back tears before my 100, 200, 4x100 and 400 meter races and keep my head high, refusing to let him see me cry, attempting to hide the pain he caused.
When he would first walk into the stadium, I would avoid him and feel utterly embarrassed by his presence while fearing what drug he was on or how many beers he drank on the way.
I wanted to scream, “you are not welcome here, you reek of cigarettes!”
Though my heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces, when I ran, the anger and confusion dissolved.
I had a choice…
With great effort, I reframed the automatic, reactive thoughts of…
Perhaps he wasn’t the best father figure, but he was the best cheerleader.
He shouted “Go Brynny!” loud and proud, drowning out the crowd, always standing directly across from the finish line, so that his was the first smile I would see at the race’s end.
Initially fueled by disgust, rage, sadness, I ran with all my heart, channeling the darkness into light, allowing the necessary but negative feelings to coalesce into a singular emotion: love.
Eventually, my dad’s drug phase ceased, though not his drinking and smoking, and I looked forward to his presence at my track meets, acknowledging it as the best way he knew how to support, care and love.
Running and racing became a way to process how I felt about...
Unknowingly, I ran to see if I had any love left for him, and finally ran not only for me but for him, and consequently, for us.
In my choosing forgiveness and in his choosing to finally show up, we formed an eternal bond.
From those days forward, we celebrated running together...
For that, I am forever grateful.
Fast forward 11 years…
On February 15, 2012, my now-husband, Eric, and I drove to my dad’s house to surprise him on his 60th birthday.
“Happy birthday!” I exclaimed when my dad answered the door, shocked to see me back from a three-month stay in New Zealand with Eric, a man he’d never met.
“Brynny, what the hell are you doing here, and who’s this!?”
“I’m back from New Zealand, this is Eric, my boyfriend, and we’re moving to Ohiopyle for the summer!”
My dad was a white water river guide, and I a kayaker, so we spent the summer on the river, reuniting after I had lived away from home for a decade.
At the same time, I began training for three races set to take place in the fall. My dad planned to act as my main crew.
Yet, he became ill and was admitted to the hospital mid-October, missing the races.
Though he was at first diagnosed with pneumonia, a litany of other issues ensued, including meningitis, until his immune system shut down, and he deteriorated for eight long months.
During one hospital visit, he challenged me to run the Mount Summit Challenge, a 3.5-mile uphill race, held in April, just 15 minutes from my hometown.
I agreed, and we chatted as if he would be there.
Soon, our hope-filled plan was disrupted by a surprise event.
A month after committing to train for the Summit, I brought him some news:
“Eric and I are having a baby!”
He was barely conscious, lying in the hospital bed, but I think he understood.
Of course, the surprise pregnancy curtailed my Summit training.
Instead, I became engrossed in the joy of expecting a baby and simultaneously distressed at my father’s decline.
Nearly two years later, when I picked up my bib for the 2015 Mount Summit Challenge, the race my dad had wanted to see me run, a miracle happened.
My bib: 52. My dad was born on February 15, 1952 (2-15-52).
Rattled, mystified and awe-struck, I floated to the start line in a befuddled trance.
I won second overall female, the first time I ever made the podium in a race (since high school track).
And then the miracles kept happening…
They have happened so many times that I often lose count. Thus, a list:
Miracles #1 & #2: April & June 2015 - Spring Race Recap: How Death, Childbirth & Injury Made Me a Stronger Runner (Mount Summit Challenge bib #52 & Ohiopyle 25k bib #252)
Miracle #3: Sept. 2015 - Running My Fastest 10K in the Wisconsin North Face Endurance Challenge Trail Race (“I Am My Father’s Daughter” was the song that came on the radio as we pulled in to park the car - we waited and let it play out)
Miracle #4: April 2016 - Dad, I Won the Mount Summit Challenge For You (bib #152)
Miracle #5: May 2016 - Magic Number Marathon: Running 26.2 Miles with My Dad's Spirit (Pittsburgh Marathon bib #2517)
Miracle #6: On February 15, my dad's birthday, the 2017 Mount Summit Challenge registration form arrived in the mail. I was seven months pregnant and did not plan to race but cherished the sign from heaven.
Miracle #7: May 2017 - Running Up That Hill: It All Started With You, Dad (at four weeks postpartum, I took my new baby to watch the Mount Summit Challenge first female come across the finish line; she wearing bib #152)
Miracle #8: Sept. 2017 - Dad, I'll See You at the Race: 5.22 Mile Rick O'Donnell Memorial Trail Run Recap & My Race Angel's Nine Miracles (bib #521)
Miracle #9: Sept. 2017 - From Birth to 5K: Running My First Race at Four Months Postpartum and Five Tips to Get There (Laurel Hill 5k time: 22:55)
Miracle #10: Nov. 2017: Turkey Trot Recap: My Dad Meets Me AGAIN! (bib# 1925)
Miracle #11: April 20218 - Dad, I Ran the Mount Summit Challenge For You, and You Showed Up in Three New Ways! (5th female/ 20th runner)
Miracle #12: May 2018 - My Dad, My Husband, & Winning Second Overall Female in the Coopers Rock Half Marathon (this time he showed up via Eric’s finish time: 2:15:02)
Miracle #13: June 2018 - Winning Second Overall Female in the Vermont Infinitus Trail Marathon, with a Little Help from Race Angel Dad (at mile 18, I pulled away from a group of women, questioning whether to go hard or hang back, and came up on a man with his bib, number 215, pinned to his upper back. I had never before and never after this seen a bib pinned to anyone’s back. I took it as a sign and flew, winning second female)
May 2019 - Dad, I Won the 2019 Mount Summit Challenge For You (race directors gave me bib #252 to wear as a gift)
Miracle #14: June 2019 - Mom, Why Did You Run a 50k? An Answer to My Son’s Question, Part One (Laurel Highlands Ultra 50k bib #520)
Miracle #15: Nov. 2019 - Red River Gorge 25k (2nd female/ 15th runner)
Miracle #16: May 2021 - North Fork Mountain Trail: One Runner’s Long-Overdue Solo FKT (uphill record time: 5:02:14)
Miracle #17: Sept. 2021: Running Together: How to Train + Race with Family & Friends (Eric’s Odyssey Trail Half Marathon bib #255 and finish time 2:50:50)
Miracle #18: August 2022: 11 Things to Love About the Cook Forest 25k+ (finish time 2:52:17)
Miracle #19 occurred on Sunday, Oct. 9, 2022, at the Green Monster 15k fall running event…
Rececving a race bib containing my dad’s birth digits hadn’t happened for three years, since the 2019 Laurel Highlands 50k.
Though his digits have appeared in finish times and even in Eric’s bibs and races, I thought the major string of miracles had ended.
I was wrong…
When we arrived at the start/ finish area, I picked up my bib. “25!” I squealed excitedly to Eric as I took the bib from the volunteers.
25, my dad’s birth year (‘52) in reverse.
The same awe-struck feelings I felt the first time, back in 2015, filled me up, reminding me that perhaps the miracle of my dad’s love, the “extraordinary and astonishing happenings that I attribute to the presence and action of an ultimate or divine power,” will never end.
Everlasting miracles, sparked by love. I’ll take it.
I went into it with a did-that-really-just-happen surreal feeling, but despite the excitement, I had already decided that in this race, on this day, I was not going to run an all-out effort.
No, I had little desire to push it, break PRs, make the podium, set records or to run until I vomited.
Going all out was getting tiring, and I felt as if I were on the edge of pushing my limits too often.
After all, this year I had already:
The trails were beautiful, covered in dry autumn leaves, no mud, with good climbs and descents, flowy single track, rocky, technical as well as fast, flat sections and five to seven creek crossings, making me feel right at home.
Pre-Race Breakfast, 7:30 a.m.
A 10:45 a.m. start time meant I had time to eat a solid breakfast:
Pre-Race Snack, 10:15 a.m.
Running on empty has never worked for me and is not good for performance or post-race recovery, so I had a pre-race snack: