Spectators, Prepare Your Children

    

Lydia's note to her dad on the Runner's Wall

In Houston, this is marathon weekend.  It's busy and exciting and it's the one time a year that I wish I could tack on a runners bib and join the thousands who challenge themselves with a 13.1 or 26.2 run or in my case what would be a painful, arduous, long, slow jog. 


     Instead for the 6th marathon season since marrying a runner with high school track team memories, I have played the role of spectator.  And I will pat myself on the back and say that each year, I get just a little bit better.  Of course this year and last were much, much easier as K decided to run "just" the 1/2 marathon.  I say "just" because waiting 2 hours in the cold is cake when compared to the 3 or 4 hours of the full marathon.  And my condolences and admiration go out to my faithful friends who supported their marathon runners today in the rain.

Mile 6 - Kenny running back to tell us he may not make it.

    Of course Kenny wouldn't consider what he did today "just" a 1/2 marathon especially since when we saw him at mile 6, he told me he may have to drop out because something popped in his calf.  We weren't sure what to expect at mile 12. Would he have to call us to pick him up?  Would he stop at a medic tent until someone could drive him to the finish line?  Or would he just tough it out (probably the worse decision) and run on it for 7 more miles.  You can guess what he did -- because we were there 6 miles later right on time to see him half-running, half limping through the drizzling, gray rain.  

       And speaking of the drizzle, this was not an ideal spectator year.  The cold temps may have been good for runners,  but not for a mom and 3 kids who LOVE to complain about the cold.  The wind and the rain didn't help much either and were a test for our tempers and our home-made signs.  At one point, it got really bad.  We were rushing from car to sideline. Lanie was crying to be held because she was cold, Elijah was angry because she was crying, and Lydia lost her scarf.  I thought I came prepared with our winter wear, but it didn't fend off the frozen fingers. 

Look at the sad, sad face.

 

 

  This very kind woman took pity on us and invited us to a volunteer station where we helped ourselves to hot chocolate and donuts.  Nevermind that the morning began with a trip to the donut shop for chocolate milk and donuts.  At that point, I wouldn't have turned down anything.

For the  love of hot chocolate.

 And that little bit of love was just enough to lift our spirits as we cheered on dad for the last time.  It didn't last long though.  One moment they are saying, "We Saw Him! He made it!" and without hesitation, "Can we go now?"  I'm not sure if I'm raising true running fans.  But they are at least devoted to their dad. 

Mile 12 - still trekking

     After a fight with road closures and increased parking lot prices, we found our $6 lot, and tromped through the puddles (at least Lanie did), stopping at a port-a-potty on the way and finally reached the finish line where we waited to hug our wet, tired and limping runner.  

Finish Line