Today my boys and I ran the Anchor Scholarship Anchor Run 5K at Naval Station Norfolk. Yes, I have a half marathon tomorrow, but this run is near and dear to my heart. You see, I planned the very first one. I had been running for, like 5 minutes, when I convinced the Surface Officers' Spouses to give a new fundraiser a try. This is where the story gets funny. After they said yes and appointed me (the Good Idea Fairy) as the race director, I got pregnant. The inaugural race took place exactly 8 days before my little bit was born.
Fast forward 3 years and my boys said that they would run the race with me. We left our house at "race day early" (7:00...not too early) to get to the Naval Station and get settled. We picked up our bibs and then everyone decided that they weren't feeling it. Nobody wanted to run. They found a fun tree to fight play in and didn't want to go. I finally convinced them to get their bibs on and line up at the start. The gun went off and the whining started. They were hot....they were tired....their feet, heads, stomachs, hands, fingers, chins, hair follicles hurt.....they wanted water....they wanted to be done. My mom was supposed to walk/run with us, but her hip was hurting and she turned back after about 1/4 mile or so. I forged on ahead.
For the first time in my running career, I was dead last. We started dead last and we stayed that way for 3 miles....53 minutes and 57 seconds of being dead last. I tried to talk to the boys....they complained. I tried to point out things on the beautiful course - like the aircraft carriers and the tugboats, and the plane on the carrier deck....they whined. People were clapping for them....they growled. It stayed that way until about mile 2, then Jacob decided to start running a little. Jeffrey still refused, so we walked. Remarkably, the only one who was in good spirits was the little one. I guess riding along in your stroller isn't half bad. He just kept telling me to run so he could go faster.
We contemplated giving up. We talked about cutting the course short by going across the golf course. There was even talk about walking off the end of the pier and going for a swim. But, they finished. By the time we go to the finish line, everyone was done. They were watching us. They were clapping and yelling and giving the encouragement that runners give. Jacob panicked. He tried to hide.
He refused to cross the finish line. After 53 minutes of whining, there was NO way that he wasn't crossing that finish line. I scooped him up and carried him across. It was a long, whiny 3 miles, but we finished and I am proud of them. I can't say that it was fun, but running isn't always fun. It wasn't our best race, but that happens. I can say that we finished and we finished together. I love my running boys!!
PS - Being last doesn't kill you. You don't explode when you cross the finish line. People actually clap more for the last runners than for the ones that are almost last. Now I can say that I have been dead last....it was still 3 miles...done!
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