I just found out my daughter is planning on flying to Boston in April for the marathon. She realized after St. George that she’s never seen me race before. I’m so excited that she’s coming, though this means I have to finish strong for her at the finish line. All the usual little doubts start creeping into my brain, like what if I blow it and have a slow finish, or just generally look like hell when I run down the chute? Silly me, she won’t care. I have to admit, it is kind of awesome to know I’ll be running Boston with my daughter looking on. Even though she’s a grown woman, what a message I’ll be sending her. And what a motivator it will be for me while I’m running to know that she’ll be waiting for me at the finish.
I never thought when I was raising her that I’d be running a marathon one day. In the past, I never, ever considered myself athletic. I tried running when I lived in Switzerland in my early 20’s and hated it. My Canadian sister-in-law was much sportier than me, and she made it look easy. She was always biking, or skiing, or doing aerobics–and she always looked great while she worked out. I thought aerobics was boring, though I did bike and ski when I had the chance. After the kids were born I was way too busy playing Swiss housewife and mother to worry about working out.
Now the kids are all grown up and I’ve got plenty of time to myself. What a joy it’s been to discover running. It’s been almost exactly four years since I took those first running steps, and look how far I’ve come. Boston!