Cross Country
Harry, my 9-year-old, runs cross country. Even though I managed to crawl my way across the finish line of the Columbus Marathon in 2006 (yes, I completed 26.2 miles!), I’ve never been a runner. When Harry expressed interest in joining the school team, I was surprised, but completely supportive. For much of my life, the value of sports eluded me (I’ve discussed this more fully here) but I’ve since reformed my attitude. And while running is not something I enjoy, I appreciate the health benefits, both physical AND mental.
My own history with running, and physical fitness in general, is dismal. I frequently experienced anxiety-induced vomiting on gym class day and I failed every Presidential Fitness Exam standard except sit-ups. The mile run test? I dreaded it so much I couldn’t sleep the week before. The intention of that exam was to encourage fitness, but instead it made the goals seem so out of reach that I just gave up entirely. Add to that the public humiliation of failing the standards in front of my peers, and it’s a wonder I’m able to muster the courage to enter Planet Fitness to this day.
Because of my own struggles with fitness, it’s unexplainable that I agreed to train for the Columbus Marathon with my bff, Molly. Sure, we were raising money for Leukemia Lymphoma Society (my mom’s a Lymphoma survivor and her dad succumbed to Leukemia) and the race was the day after I turned 30, but it still seemed like an unattainable goal. Speaking of goals, I frequently joked throughout training that I just didn’t want to be last place.
On race day, I came down with bronchitis, which slowed me down considerably and the coughing messed up my gait. I wanted to quit at mile 18, but sheer momentum and determination kept me moving forward. I coughed and stumbled and eventually my mom and Jason joined me for the last few miles. I managed to be the second to last person to cross the finish line before the officials closed it down. I completed my goal, but walked away with blisters covering the balls of both my feet.
Is it possible President Reagan was wrong about me afterall?
I told you all that to give a frame of reference for this. I can’t seem to attend a cross country meet without tearing up.
The first meet I attended took me by surprise. It had been nearly 10 years since I’d been to a race so I had no idea what was about to happen. The first race that morning was girls, K-3, with about 100 runners. When the gun went off, I was there rooting for Harry’s teammates. After watching the start, we made our way to the middle of the course to cheer.
As the front runners passed, I clapped and shouted words of encouragement. Then something happened. Once the middle of the pack had passed, the crowd dissipated and the runners who needed the most support were left hanging. Seeing these girls giving it their all flashed me back to my marathon and I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. I kept clapping and sharing words of reassurance.
Then the middle of the pack moved on and there were just a few stragglers. These last few girls, struggling but not stopping, running but not much faster than they could walk, hit me straight in the feels. The tears that were welling up poured out and I tried to cheer but nothing came out of my mouth.
I couldn’t help but put 8-year-old Mollie into their shoes. I wouldn’t have had the courage to attempt a mile race at that age. And more importantly, I wouldn’t have had the perseverance to power through the pain and embarrassment of being at the back of the pack. But I did find the strength to do that at 30. Wow, these young ladies are way smarter and more advanced that I was at their age!
Running a race is competitive. Sure, you’re racing against other people but the bigger competition is with yourself. Improving your time, even by just a few seconds, can be enough to feel like you’ve won a race. And this is just one of the ways the Presidential Fitness Exam got it all wrong (I’ll save my commentary on the idiocy of the flexibility standard for another day). The improvement is what matters most. Working towards incremental goals is far more productive than pass/fail.
Since that first race, I’ve been to at least 10 more and it never fails, I tear up at least twice. Knowing what it takes for a chubby, unathletic girl to power through to the finish line, I can say with confidence that the triumph of the human spirit has been present at every single race I’ve attended. Luckily, I’ve learned to stuff a handkerchief in my bra strap (a trick I learned from my great-grandmother) so I’m prepared for the tears and leaky nose.
In what I consider to be his most important accomplishment, President Obama discontinued the Presidential Fitness Exam. Is it a coincidence that this happened before the girls I’m cheering on were even born? I think not. I’m sure that contributes to why they feel empowered to compete, even if it’s only with themselves.
As for me and running…Harry and I are considering training for a 5K together. If you know of any kid friendly races, please leave a comment or shoot me an email at mollie@midlifepickle.com.
