Finishers

A little over a year ago, I sent Phil a text. Now, this is not an unusual occurrence and I have sent Phil many texts before and after this particular one.

What was unusual about this text was the message itself. Which was: “I want to run the Disneyland 10K next year.”

Phil’s response was something like, “ok.” (I’m paraphrasing because this exchange took place a year ago and I didn’t save them and my memory isn’t what it was a year ago.)

I answered with, “And I want you to run it with me.”

There was a longer pause after this last text and finally his reply, “How about a 5k. Or you run it and the kids and I will cheer you on. From home.”

I pointed out that we had a whole entire year to train and a 5k after all that time would seem a bit… underwhelming.

He looked up more information about the race and said there was a Goofy wagon that would pick up anyone not running at least a 16-minute mile and take them to the finish line.

I promptly dubbed it the “wagon of shame.”

He promptly renamed it to “wagon of fame, baby.”

So I got him on board with the idea.

Months passed. Like the little engine that could, I chugged away on the treadmill in our garage and ever so slowly built up my mileage. Somewhat impressive in that I’ve only ever run a 5k in my life and that was the longest distance I had run before. My sidekick however, had yet to begin training.

More months passed. The signup day arrived and I tragically couldn’t get the website to load on my computer. Phil was at work and was able to get on the site and sign himself up. Texts flew back and forth between us. I began to taste the bitter irony of my wanting to run this race all this time and dragging him into it, only to have him get a spot while I miss it. My hero saved the day though and managed to get me registered from his work computer as well. Also, he signed me up for a commemorative pin too. Because this is Phil we’re talking about.

A few more months passed. My training continues with workout videos and regular session on the treadmill made even better because now Phil had rigged a TV up in front of it and I could watch Gilmore Girls while jogging. Serious awesomeness, right there. Still though, my sidekick hadn’t begun training at all.

Then summer was upon us. And just like that, my training completely stagnated. Something about four kids at home everyday needing food and clean clothes at regular intervals completely derailed me. I began to get nervous about this whole thing.

Before I knew it, August was upon us and finally, finally, my sidekick began getting some miles logged on the treadmill. And by some crazy fluke, my sciatica from pregnancy days decides to rear it’s ugly head. NOW?! Mere weeks from race day and I can barely stand?? More and more, it began to look as if this might end up being just a pipe dream. A really expensive pipe dream.

But thank the Lord, the nerve pain went away and I had a little over a week to try and get back on board.

Race day arrived. My dad had driven to our house the evening before to stay with the kids while Phil and I woke up at dark o’clock to get ourselves to Disneyland for the race that began at 5:30 am. I had not realized it was going to be at 5:30 am. Had I known this, that whole text exchange a year ago might never have occurred at all.

My only goals? Finish the race ahead of the “wagon of shame”. Try to run the entire time, except for water breaks. And also beat my sidekick. Which seemed only fitting because years before, like nineteen years ago, Phil and I ran a 5k before we were dating and I believe I beat him back then, too. So you know, for old times’ sake.

And happily, thankfully, surprisingly, all three goals were met that day! And it felt simply amazing. I get it now. All those crazy people looking for their next race. At 38 years of age, I finally get it. It’s not about finishing first (at least to me), but about setting what initially feels like an impossible goal, working steadily towards it, then experiencing the achievement of that goal, and all the exhilaration that comes with it. Now I get it.

Now to get him on board for a half marathon. Think he’ll do it? 😉