Today I watched my mother cross the finish line of her first (and probably last) marathon. She is 59. It is more than safe to say that at 32, she would have kicked my butt. I would still be crying at mile 2.
I will digress for one moment and let you in on a now famous story that will probably make it’s way into my eulogy somehow. In high school I went out for cross country. I am not sure why since I hated exercise of most any kind, but my parents were runners and somehow convinced me that this was the sport for me. An athlete I am not. Anyway, the first meet comes around and suddenly despite lots of “practice” it occurs to me that I am going to have to actually run and that there are hills involved. And that the run is longer than from the couch to the fridge. So I do what any trained, superstar athlete would do when confronted with having to run a long distance (sadly, it was 2 miles). I wait until I go into a grove of trees and fake an fall which “injured” my knee. So clearly, marathons are probably not in my future.
My mom has been training for 4 months. Today, she wore a metal denoting she ran 26.2 miles. I could not be more proud of her. I found myself tearing up so many times today watching her run (yes Courtney, I cried). I am just amazed at her strength, courage, determination and perseverance to finish this race. The best part for me was watching Lily meet her in the last stretch so that they could cross the finish line together.
They actually held hands as they crossed the line, but I missed that in the picture. Of course, after they finished, I got asked the obvious question, “How come I don’t get a medal too?” I explained to Lily that you had to run in the race to get a medal. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, “But I did.” Oh sweetie, if only we got a medal for running the race for a few feet, we would need a bigger house to hold all of mommy’s cross country medals.
I am so proud of you mom!! Feel free to send your congrats in the comments. She is my most loyal reader.