A Goal is a Beautiful Thing


I ran my first official 5K, and I beat my best time by four minutes! While it is true that The Athlete, who did not train for the race at all and has never run three miles in her life beat me by one minute, I am used to being humiliated by her skills.

But now a weird thing has happened. I am having this let-down feeling. It was kind of fun to be on a quest. So while I am relieved that I made it to the goal I set, I am kind of sad the race is over.

It was a cool race. We started out in the middle of a big pack running through the area of town that I love the best, past the old library where I took the kids for story time, past the elementary schools the kids have attended and past the homes on my favorite street, where I dream of buying a little house that is easy to clean one day.

I was doing great for a while, waving at the kids who came out to their driveways to cheer us on, checking out the sites.

I thought I had run about two miles and was starting to get a little winded and crampy trying to keep up with The Athlete, who was taunting me by running just ahead.

And then I saw a big sign that said Mile Marker One.

I turned around and looked at The Entrepreneur with a questioning look. Surely there must be some mistake, I thought. There can't be two miles left. I will never make it.

It reminded me of the time I went in to deliver my first baby and I was in the worst kind of miserable pain and the nurse came in to check me because by the way I was yelling everyone thought I was all ready to go and then she announced that I was only dilated to four.

Then, to try to calm me down, The Entrepreneur grabbed some stupid chart with a picture of a cervix that had little rings illustrating the stages from zero to 10 and he said in his pretend calm voice while pointing to a very small ring:

"Honey. Here you are. You just have to get to where the 10 is and then it is all over."
During the second mile The Entrepreneur had to walk a bit due to a leg cramp and I left him behind. Yes I am ashamed about that but a goal is a goal. Thankfully, some of that mile was down-hill.

I became very alarmed during the third mile when a 10-year-old passed me up. I was very afraid to look behind, because I was convinced I would quit the race if I was going to finish last.

I passed a group of spectators toward the end of the race who were pointing at me with worried looks and talking about my labored breathing, but there was no stopping me because I had seen a beautiful thing: The finish line was just ahead.

Looking at my watch I knew that I had to make up some time. And so I pulled out my sprinting form from my high school track days and ran the last half block at full speed.

My official time: 30 minutes and 11 seconds.

Now that's the new time to beat.


Anonymous said...

From Momma

CONGRATULATIONS! You did it. And BTW your legs in the photo look as young and strong (or even more so) than Abby and Bridget. Another payoff for all of the mailbox effort.

Michele said...

Awesome! Congratulations!

YLU said...

Way to go Lisa -- from mailboxes to miles.

Your Brainiac doesn't run?