The Run Down

My running shoes and I—we have a pretty good relationship. I take them out for a 40 minute spin around the neighborhood almost every day. We survey the surroundings together, take inventory of my latest thoughts, pause to pick up random items that spring forth from the stroller, and occasionally get a good work out.

Today was one of those occasions. We ran a half marathon: me, my shoes and my SIL Famous. It hurt so good. Here’s our 13.2 mile play by play, just in case you were interested:

Mile 0: Racing around my apartment trying to chase the butterflies out of my stomach as I watch the clock and wait for just the right time to wake up the Atrain. As much as he won’t like waking up to a momma who was leaving, he would have loathed waking up to a babysitter (even though she is the nicest girl around).

Mile 1: Famous and I are drowning in a tidal wave of 8,000 runners. We’re nervous, but it helps to get going. It’s still hard to believe that we’re doing this.

Mile 2: Famous ditches her gloves on the lawn of the public library.

Mile 3: We are stuck running behind a tall, muscular chap who is wearing toe shoes, tight black gear and uncomfortable looking, wedgie-inducing underclothing. He makes us cringe.

Mile 4: We wonder whose body odor we smell around us, and then converse about P-diddy and the husbands’ incredible ability to sweat. They are brothers, and share the same remarkable ability to perspire profusely.

Mile 5: Stuck behind wedgie-man again. He prances down the road with his bottom awkwardly protruding. We are unsure if his strange gate is caused by the toe shoes or the underwear lodged between his buttocks. I hate that I am analyzing his wedgie. We make a valiant effort to pass him.

Mile 6: We stop for 10 minutes at the port-a-potties. The lines are astounding and the mood is tense. There probably isn’t a more impatient crowd than a heap of racers waiting indefinitely for others to finish their business and continue on with the race.

Mile 7: We turn down my favorite road in the city—the small, windy road where the D.I. lives. Passing the store calms my nerves and sends a second wind my way.

Mile 8: We initiate the mile marker dance ritual.

Mile 9: I talk to the husband who successfully loaded both kiddos into the car and is heading down to the finish line.

Mile 10: “I belive in a thing called love,” by The Darkness comes on my playlist. Famous admits that she has never heard the song. I am appalled. So, I give her one of my head phones and we job in synch as downtown’s skyscrapers come into view. We’re giggling with excitement like silly teenage girls at a late night sleep-over.

Mile 11: We take inventory of our hurting bodies. I can feel my right knee complaining with every step and my left ankle has also decided to revolt. But we’re almost there. Famous is feeling sore, but great. I know she could keep running for another 13.2 miles.

Mile 12: In the shadow of downtown’s skyscrapers and amidst random rounds of applause, Famous and I finally realize that we hadn’t yet discussed the most exciting news of the year, Esteban (the husband’s brother) and Hillsey’s engagement. We squeal with delight. It gives us just the rush of endorphins we need to make it up the last hill.

Mile 13: My body is protesting, but my mind is pumped. We’re now in the thick of the crowds, soaking in the applause. Famous and I are searching for familiar faces. I’m so excited to see the husband, Atrain and Jdog. They will be so proud of me. I’m so proud of me. I knew Famous and I could do it and it’s almost done. I turn up “Single Ladies” and let Beyonce guide me to the finish line.

Mile .2 – finish line: There are fences gating off the road. Many happy people are yelling “Good job! Keep going!” Little kiddos press their faces against the bars and stick their hands out for high-fives. I give friendly high fives as I look for the husband and my little men. I can’t wait to see them. I hear a familiar “momma” yell from the right side and I flip my hair around to see Atrain sitting atop the husband’s shoulders. They’re smiling and waving excitedly. I blow kisses. I feel so happy you’d think that I was the first one coming down the route. But nope…not even close—we’re probably a good hour behind the first finisher, but it still feels amazing. Famous and I cross the finish line with our arms linked. We stop running. We hug. We laugh. Then we can’t remember how to make our bodies move forward again.

Cool down: Famous’ husband, P-diddy reviews our stats—which are not all that impressive, but we’re still impressed. I give Atrain, Jdog and the husband a kiss. The Jdog lifts his huge cheeks into a toothless grin, knowing that he’ll soon be able to eat a huge morning meal. I smile knowing that I’ll soon be able to do the same.

Finishing the half marathon was great—not because we posted an amazing time, or because of all of the calories I burned or because I finally have a great running playlist to enjoy on my daily jogs. It was great because of the company, because of our cheerleaders, and because I proved to myself that I still have a few surprises up my sleeve. Can’t wait to see what else is up there.