Marathon Mom

This post is long overdue, but was prompted by something that happened on my run yesterday morning (and has often happened lately).  While running through our quaint town, I greeted a fellow pedestrian with a smile, wave & "Good Morning."  In reply I get a smile and a "Where's the baby?"  

James has become such a part of my running that the townspeople miss him when he's not with me.  It was pretty warm last week, so I took him out for a few jaunts.  It was great to hit the roads together again.  However, when Dan's home and/or it is just too cold, I have to go it alone.

So anyway, when yesterday's "fan" asked about James it got me reflecting on his many miles with me and our marathon training.  Let's get one thing straight, there is no way I could have trained for the marathon without my Baby Jogger.  James and I put in many, many miles together.  The longest run he accompanied me on was somewhere around 11-13, so I spared him the longer ones.  However, we'd hit the roads for 8 miles together several times a week.  Often he'd nap through it, but there were also many "conversations."  These were mostly me telling him stories or pointing out the sights, but sometimes he'd chime in.

Of course there were the times he'd get upset-- stinky diaper, boredom from a longer run, ... I'd pick up the pace and head for home.  At this point I wanted to tell those who'd stare, "We're going home.  I'm not a bad mom!"

About 6 weeks before the marathon I got injured and could hardly walk.  I thought it was done, but thanks to a great physical therapist, I made it to the start.  For the first time since my first marathon, I wasn't putting pressure on myself to beat a certain time.  Those goals went out the window with the injury.  I was just thrilled to be at the start, and hopeful to get to the finish.  

Apart from the wind, it was a perfect day for running a marathon (so much so that I didn't even mind the wind)-- sunny and cool.  I successfully found my fans (Dan, James, Mom, Mag, Ali & Preston) three times along the course, and just tried to soak in all the sights along the way.  The miles went by really fast, even when both IT bands seized up on 1st Avenue (thank you to the aid station folks who fed me Tylenol).  Just 3 hours and 23 minutes later I was crossing the very familiar finish line in Central Park and hugging my friends and teammates; I had run my fastest marathon.  After getting our bags & clothes, I saw Preston and then everyone else (including Dan's parents).  Giving James a big hug felt so good.  

I have to say, other than our wedding day & James's arrival, I think it was the happiest day of my life.  I was surrounded by my people and pleased with my run.  

*The photo is me in Central Park with just about a mile and a half to go!