Yesterday, I ran my first race since having surgery on my foot this past winter. It felt really good to be back in the saddle, so to speak.
Running this race was kind of a last minute decision, but since I had been running with my friend Rachel
as she trained anyway, I felt like this decision was meant to be. I easily found someone selling their race bib and they happened to actually be in my age division. It was a sign!
|Finish line hugs.|
I seriously re-thought this meant-to-be scenario when, 2 days before the race, I acquired the stomach bug my children had been passing around since school let out. Luckily, it was a fast and furious 24 hour kind of thing and even though, I was feeling a little pooped (pun-ny), I was able to make it to the bus and down the course finishing with an official time of 2:42:02. Our unofficial time is more around 2:31, due to my running buddy's call of nature and the race organizers lack of porta-pottys at mile #6. Seriously, the wait time for a turn during a race should not be almost 11 minutes!
But, we are happy with our unofficial time considering we only had a month and a half of training with little to no running up to that point. I proved that my foot is back on track and Rachel, who suffers with Chronic West Nile, showed that pesky little mosquito just who is boss.
My wonderful friend and neighbor, Carrilyne was running her first full marathon yesterday also, so of course, I had to stay and see her triumphantly across the finish line. With Richard having business in the Philippines, my munchkins were on their own until I got home around 10:30 in the morning.
|Me with my marathon hero.|
I walked through the front door, carried by the euphoria of a runner's high, expecting an excited chorus of greetings asking me about my race. Instead, I got this-
Dallin: "Clean it up."
Dallin: "The cat puked. Clean it up."
(A long, probably too long, stunned pause.)
Me: (in my best angry, but hurt voice) "I love that I come home from just running 13.1 miles and I don't even get a "Hi, Mom. How was your race?" I just get a demand- clean it up."
Dallin: "Soooorrrrry. I'll file that in my brain under things not to say if you ever run another race when the cat pukes."
Please, give me another race to run. It's far easier than dealing with a 9 year old.
*Thank you to Rachel and Kristen
, who I shamelessly stole these pictures from off Facebook. Thanks for all of the great captures.