I did it! I ran an official 5k race! I didn’t even have a stroke or anything!
See? That’s me beside an honest-to-goodness finish line!
Why is this a picture of me coming around a finish line, rather than racing gloriously through it? That’s because I missed my goal by FOUR. EFFING. SECONDS. So, the look on my face was less Happy Exhaustion, more Homicidal Maniac. Not so blog-worthy. I prefer to share this “Phew! I finished alive!” face.
Proving to myself that I could accomplish another fitness goal was fantastic. But the best part of my entire day was when this happened:
Standing beside the finish line, holding a sign and cheering me on stood my husband, my son, and my daughter. Accomplishing my fitness goals with my family watching is worth every less-than-fun hour spent struggling through endurance training.
One day about a decade ago, when my husband and I were still dating, we had to run to catch a bus. In the years that followed, he would joke – frequently – about the ONE time he had ever seen me run. Over the weekend, he cheered me on and snapped pictures, encouraging the kids to hold the sign up nice and high as I crossed an honest-to-goodness finish line. I loved that.
I loved having my little boy there, too. But he’s a bit too little to understand much more than that he was having a fun day.
The real highlight of the day was the presence of my daughter. She was so proud of me. In kindergarten the next day, she made this:
“On Sunday I got to see my mommy run in a real race and I helped my daddy make a sign to hold up and we cheered while we held the sign up. It was the best race ever. I loved watching my mommy.”
That – in an adorable little nutshell – is what this journey of mine is all about.
It’s not about skinny, it’s about fit. It’s not about a bikini body, it’s about a body that can keep up with her and the children she’ll have one day.
My daughter no longer sees a mommy on the couch. She has a mommy who runs in a real race.
I’ll drink (er, sweat) to that.