Goals, and kids, and stupidness.

We did it!

The race was awesome. Of course, being me, I was up at 4 for the day, because I was worried that my alarm would not work at 5 (can't remember the last time I had to personally set an alarm clock.....kids have replaced early morning meetings or flights, and they are way more effective and insistent than an alarm clock ever was). All of my nervousness was gone, and I was simply excited. I pumped while I ate and downed coffee and played on the internet.......and took off for Jeannie's house.

This is the dorky part. I was driving Nate's car and listening to Casey Casum count down the top 20 from 1988 (love xm) and it was this beautiful misty red clouded sunrisey sort of morning. As I drove past the land preserve in Edgemont and was taking in the awesomeness of George Michael singing "Father Figure" (while I sang along in my horrible voice at the top of my lungs) and witnessed the beauty of where I live in the lovely foggy bright dawn moments.....I started crying! I felt positively overwhelmed ~ so grateful to be awake at 6 am, to be driving to my best friends home, to be healthy, to have pumped milk secured for my still sleeping baby in a bottle (that he takes!) to have a husband who was going to watch our children all morning so that I could run, to have won a free entry into the race, to have the luck and health and luxury of participating in events like I was about to....it was all just too wonderful. I thought about being 36 weeks pregnant on the day of this event last year, and thinking "that would be cool to do next year....." and here I was, doing it. I felt so, so lucky.

The race was awesome. The energy of 30,000 people was intoxicating. I felt high. I didn't even notice that I was running for most of it!

The thing that I remember most clearly was the 9 mile marker. I was running up the left side of the street, and there was this whole gaggle of little girls all dolled up and holding signs above their sweet little heads reading "GO MOMMY! YOU CAN DO IT!" and I promptly burst into tears. The sight of these sweet girls cheering on their Mama, (and every Mama, in my case) was just too much for me. I thought of my Julia, I thought of my Luke (who called me as I got out of the car in center city and told me to "win the race, Mama!") and I just felt so uplifted. I think that little girls who grow up watching or cheering for their Mama as she accomplishes her own goals (however trivial they may be) are lucky. Jules, those little girls (and you) served as my impetus for the sub 7 minute mile I clocked from mile 9-10. You drove me. I hope that you enact every single dream that you hold dear, my girl.

We had so.much.fun. I had a goal in mind (this was my first ever race of anything like this distance so I had no idea what to expect) and I beat it, so that thrilled me. We had a wonderful brunch with 15 post race runners/spouses afterwards, and I felt all glowy and happy and simply lucky. Some days are just perfect, and this was one of them.

I picked up some salmon at Hill's on the way home, and arrived home around 2 to find Nate relaxing on the couch as all three kids slept. I gushed on and on about the race, and was so happy to hear that they had watched it on TV looking for me. We had a wonderful night as a family, one of those nights where I just felt uniquely aware of all of the joy in my life and held them closely.

I never imagined myself as a runner, but that day I felt like one. The kids proudly trotted my medal around all night and talked about the race. I think that the reason that I run is to show them, in an easy and definable way, that exercise is awesome. That being strong is great. That it is okay to set goals (whether they are having a homebirth or running a race) and to simply do your best. Sometimes your best may not work out in the way you envisioned it, and sometimes it may work out beyond your wildest dreams.

The key is in believing. The key is in taking the risk. The key is hope, and faith, and trust. The key is also in acceptance, that sometimes the work is enough, not the result. On this day, the work paid off. And I am reveling in it.