Finally this past January our schedules allowed us to meet in person. And of course, we went running. While my two-year-old daughter and her four-year-old son laughed and played in my double Chariot stroller, I helped Rhonda navigate the dark city streets. Truth be told, Rhonda knows the local running routes better than I do, having memorized the sidewalks’ dips and turns so that she can do most of her training in the wee hours of the morning and spend her days with her clients and her family. Being a guide runner for that short time was a tremendous pressure and honour. Over the next few weeks we’d run together, sometimes with her middle son, sometimes with another local running mother, sometimes with her husband. Each time I was struck by Rhonda’s quiet confidence. On our last long training run together, a 20K on a cold and windy Sunday, each time her Garmin beeped out a kilometre, she’d make a joke about being cranky. The 20K was her longest run in months. But instead of complaining, she carried on quietly, 100% tuned into her surroundings, one foot in front of the other, while myself and her other guide runner pointed out puddles and parked cars. After our run was finished, Rhonda confided that the reason she was so determined to finish that 20K run was she wanted to race the Peterborough Half Marathon. Solo. This would be her first ever solo half marathon.