Yesterday was the Go Girl half marathon. I was privileged and honored to spend 13.1 miles with some extremely special girls.
The weather was perfect, and as the ladies started gathering around the starting line there was a great spirit of excitement. My friend Andi and I saw matching shirts, cheerful signs, and tutus (hey, this was an all-girls race!). There was even a spontaneous Zumba warm-up before the race, courtesy of Mark Livesay and the Ultramax team. Once the race started we kept telling ourselves we were just on a nice long walk. Emphasis on the long part.
About three miles in we caught up with two young mothers pushing strollers. They were part of a mothers' group based out of Fort Leonard Wood; military wives teamed up for races and called themselves "warriors with strollers". One woman, named Sunny, was embarking on her first half marathon. She would run in short bursts, telling herself she could make it to the next stop sign or the end of the block. Her son was the perfect racing partner, talking and flirting from his seat. Andi asked her if she had any plans for Mother's Day, and Sunny replied that her husband was deployed and wouldn't be there. Her effort, both on and off the race course, was a real inspiration.
At the last tenth of a mile we saw another young woman attempting her first half marathon. It was clear that she was hurting; she was moving slowly and stopping often. Members of the Ultramax team were encouraging and guiding her along, but the enormity of the race was weighing heavily on her and she quietly kept her head down as she trudged along. As she rounded the last turn, however, several of her family and friends emerged and began to cheer. That was all it took to push her across the finish line into her family's arms. There were tears and smiles all around as she accepted congratulations all around that she richly deserved.
The most special lady we met along the way was Beth. About five miles in we noticed her moving right along all on her own. The three of us struck up a conversation that carried us miles down the road. At first Beth worried she was slowing us down, although we assured her we were worried about the same thing! We fell into a comfortable pace, and Beth started to tell us about her family. She mentioned her husband of 44 years, who had passed about a month ago. She admitted with a smile that he would have teased her for doing a half marathon -- "a walk through the woods? Great! A 13 mile walk on a road? Why on earth would you do that?" She told us about the time they had won a boat despite knowing nothing about them. Her husband had managed to recruit two friends who had sailed before, and that boat ended up being one of their favorite places to go.
The miles ticked by, and soon we only had three miles to go. We passed a group of buildings near the college campus. Beth suddenly began to cry, to Andi's and my surprise. Beth pointed at a building and quietly said, "That's the building where my husband and I met." Beth was letting us in on this extremely private and emotional moment, and we felt for her. That was also a turning point in the race. We were no longer casual acquaintances; we were friends.
We received a welcome distraction soon afterwards -- the robot that our middle school students had built was outside and ready to cheer us on! I was so touched that my friends and students would take the time to come outside and cheer us along. It was the push we needed to finish those last few miles.
Another welcome surprise was Beth's daughter Becky, who had already finished the race and had backtracked to come find us. Becky is also a teacher and, as it turns out, we had several friends and students in common. Another bond was forged as we powered through those last steps. As we crossed the finish line and the announcer was calling our names, we each had our own little moment of triumph. The look in Andi's eyes was worth every minute of effort. We accepted our medals and flowers and grabbed each other in a huge hug. There was a flurry of pictures and hugs and promises to get together soon. Despite the pain and thoughts of "will this ever end?", it was the perfect ending to the perfect race.
The weather was perfect, and as the ladies started gathering around the starting line there was a great spirit of excitement. My friend Andi and I saw matching shirts, cheerful signs, and tutus (hey, this was an all-girls race!). There was even a spontaneous Zumba warm-up before the race, courtesy of Mark Livesay and the Ultramax team. Once the race started we kept telling ourselves we were just on a nice long walk. Emphasis on the long part.
About three miles in we caught up with two young mothers pushing strollers. They were part of a mothers' group based out of Fort Leonard Wood; military wives teamed up for races and called themselves "warriors with strollers". One woman, named Sunny, was embarking on her first half marathon. She would run in short bursts, telling herself she could make it to the next stop sign or the end of the block. Her son was the perfect racing partner, talking and flirting from his seat. Andi asked her if she had any plans for Mother's Day, and Sunny replied that her husband was deployed and wouldn't be there. Her effort, both on and off the race course, was a real inspiration.
At the last tenth of a mile we saw another young woman attempting her first half marathon. It was clear that she was hurting; she was moving slowly and stopping often. Members of the Ultramax team were encouraging and guiding her along, but the enormity of the race was weighing heavily on her and she quietly kept her head down as she trudged along. As she rounded the last turn, however, several of her family and friends emerged and began to cheer. That was all it took to push her across the finish line into her family's arms. There were tears and smiles all around as she accepted congratulations all around that she richly deserved.
The most special lady we met along the way was Beth. About five miles in we noticed her moving right along all on her own. The three of us struck up a conversation that carried us miles down the road. At first Beth worried she was slowing us down, although we assured her we were worried about the same thing! We fell into a comfortable pace, and Beth started to tell us about her family. She mentioned her husband of 44 years, who had passed about a month ago. She admitted with a smile that he would have teased her for doing a half marathon -- "a walk through the woods? Great! A 13 mile walk on a road? Why on earth would you do that?" She told us about the time they had won a boat despite knowing nothing about them. Her husband had managed to recruit two friends who had sailed before, and that boat ended up being one of their favorite places to go.
The miles ticked by, and soon we only had three miles to go. We passed a group of buildings near the college campus. Beth suddenly began to cry, to Andi's and my surprise. Beth pointed at a building and quietly said, "That's the building where my husband and I met." Beth was letting us in on this extremely private and emotional moment, and we felt for her. That was also a turning point in the race. We were no longer casual acquaintances; we were friends.
We received a welcome distraction soon afterwards -- the robot that our middle school students had built was outside and ready to cheer us on! I was so touched that my friends and students would take the time to come outside and cheer us along. It was the push we needed to finish those last few miles.
Another welcome surprise was Beth's daughter Becky, who had already finished the race and had backtracked to come find us. Becky is also a teacher and, as it turns out, we had several friends and students in common. Another bond was forged as we powered through those last steps. As we crossed the finish line and the announcer was calling our names, we each had our own little moment of triumph. The look in Andi's eyes was worth every minute of effort. We accepted our medals and flowers and grabbed each other in a huge hug. There was a flurry of pictures and hugs and promises to get together soon. Despite the pain and thoughts of "will this ever end?", it was the perfect ending to the perfect race.
Comments
Post a Comment