#4 - Mother's Day Race - May 9

I was the fastest girl in the 6th grade at Anna M. McCabe Elementary School. I was selected to represent the school in the 50 yard dash at Field Day competing against the other elementary schools in the area: Raymond LaPerch, William Windsor, and Old County. This meant way more than the end of year 5th grade Spelling B where I tied David Surprenant for the win. No one could catch me – years of running away from 5 brothers who wanted to pulverize me for any or no reason at all was about to pay off big.



I was in a fog of self-imposed pressure at the starting line in a ragged pair of hand-me-down Keds. Usually I ran barefoot at home because shoes never fit me right. I couldn’t even tell you who I was racing against. I could see the finish line – right there – just 50 yards away – not far at all – I can do this! Ready! Set! Go! As the adrenaline rushed from head to toe and I took a colossal breath and clenched my teeth, my foot slipped on the lousy gravel track and in a fraction of a second, my view was of several fannies getting away from me. I didn’t lose, but I didn’t win either. I was crushed. My racing career ended that day quicker than it began.

Fast forward 40 years and I am on the starting line again. The pressure is a little different this time. I am not going to win and have no chance of it but I risk becoming an even bigger dork because I am running with my kids - teens.

When I started this 50x50 blog a month ago, I thought my daughters would be the last to sign up – they didn't really get it and they don't make great efforts to spend lengthy amounts of time with me. But when people started signing up and coming up with cool ideas, Becca surprised me by asking me to run the Women's Running Race on Mother's Day with her. I was very surprised for several reasons:

1. I didn't think she wanted to do anything with me (after all she is nearly 18 which means you suddenly become independent, abundantly intelligent, and rich)

2. I don't run. I don't like to run. I don't run.

3. I had secretly hoped that Mother's Day would be spent at some kind of Belgian Waffle mimosa fruit cornucopia crispy bacon type of all you can eat palace.

I had no choice but to say 'yes' exuberantly. She only gave me a little more than a week’s notice which made getting ready for this arduous 2.1 miler a true challenge. Becca and Andrea have been running since they were little. Their daddy started signing them up for kid's races early on and he now runs a girls summer running club. Track Club

Becca made varsity XC for 4 years and ran track for 3. Andrea is the sprinter on her track team but she does not like distance (neither do I). I always feel like I could get there much faster on my bike. I made some efforts to go out for walks and jogs, hit the treadmill once, half hour on the lateral thigh trainer, but it was really hard with working, cooking, band, band parties, concerts, and socializing with Japanese Rotarians.

As luck may have it (?) Becca was out way too late the night before the race and didn't sleep well and Andrea decided to join us but only if we mix lots of walking with the running. Whew!! This just might work! On race morning, we woke to wind and flakes and I instantly regretted this decision. Andrea made me an English muffin, since time was short, and the three of us grabbed hoodies and gloves and headed to the start. Dave was already there with camera and stop watch in hand as he was the official race timer (don't you think he should have been home making me an omelet?). We got in line with 200 other women ranging in age from infant to 80. Bang! Run! We were off but immediately decided we should save our energy for the crowd of spectators up ahead. I thought the middle of the pack was a good place to be and had my eye on a few women I refuse to be beaten by but the stroller infants were way too fast. We ran past the on-lookers (mostly men) and smiled for our shots before moving into a quick stroll for the long hill.

This is Becca's last few months at home as she gets ready for college and life beyond. I should be proud of the daughter we raised and the job we've done but, actually, I feel cheated. I'm not ready to let go and be done. I am aching for the days when I could throw them in the car and head to the beach with a cooler lunch and make sand castles all day. My role now is handing out cash and rides and yelling “lock the door!” from my bed when the last one comes home. She is struggling to break free and I am latching on. However, that action creates friction and friction makes sparks and sparks ignite and “Holy crap! When the heck are you leaving?!?”

We crested the hill and felt a sigh of relief as the rest of the race would be much easier – mostly level and some gradual downhills. I hope that's how the next few months will go, but I know better. The last half mile was a smooth slope and we ran the whole rest of the way in - crossing the finish line together. Bittersweet.

As we waited for the results, knowing there would be no hardware for any of us, I noticed a young mother standing with her family. She looked to be in her 20's and was holding the hand of her 1 year old daughter while using all other available limbs to rock the 3 carriers on the floor holding her newborn triplet daughters. They were all perfect and beautiful and I overheard her telling someone that she never sleeps. I suddenly felt completely unworthy of exploiting this mother's day and wanted to offer my help to this overwhelmed young mother. If I had any advice to give her at all, it would be to cherish every moment, the good and the bad, because it all goes by in a flash.

xo

Mom