Lessons from the Glow Run

Last Friday night Kendle and I ran our first race together - a 3 mile night glow run along the Columbia River here in Pasco. Our Relay for Life team sponsored the event and it was a total blast. Everyone was decked out in all sorts of neon and glow in the dark accessories and clothing. Not only was the race itself super fun, but the fact that so many people came out to show their support for such a good cause was awesome. I'm so glad that we had such a great experience participating in our first race.  I usually don't consider myself a very competitive person, but there was something about running and raising money for cancer and thinking about those that we have lost and those that are dealing with cancer right now that just made me want to run my heart out for all of them.

I had a personal PR for a 3 mile run at 24:06. Pretty sure if I could have started sprinting right away I could have made it under 24 minutes. It was hard bobbing and weaving through all of the people at the very beginning, but eventually it cleared out and I was able to get a good pace going. Kendle and I started out side by side and she was actually cutting a nice path through people for me. She kept up a good pace with me for the first half mile or so. She had a great time of 30:52. She ran her little heart out, I was pretty darn proud of her. She came up with her own system to get through the race: sprint, run, jog, and then walk when she got tired. She loved it and wants to do another race soon.

 I have to share this experience from the race that has stayed with me and I think it really taught me something that I needed to see, feel, and learn. Kendle and I were keeping pace together really well at the beginning, I was sprinting pretty hard to get a good start going and she was keeping up. About a half mile in I could tell she was starting to struggle and slow down. I was tempted to slow down with her and give her a break, but I was trying to be this fast race runner lady and wanted to do my best, so I made the decision to go on ahead and leave her behind. As I put distance between us, I took a glance over my shoulder and I could see her slowing and getting swallowed up by the darkness and the sea of runners. It made me kind of sad. She was trying so hard and really wanted to finish with a good time.  My next thought was just to concentrate on running as fast as I could so I could be to the finish line in plenty of time to watch her finish and take a picture. I found a fast person in front of me to keep pace with and did my best to keep up with them the remainder of the race.  After crossing the finish line myself, I stood and cheered with others on the sidelines as the other racers came through. In the darkness it was hard to make out who was who, and I kept searching and searching for her face to appear among those nearing the end. When I spotted her face among a few other runners approaching the finish, I felt like I had just learned a profound lesson that I as a mother needed to learn at this exact moment in my life. It literally felt like I had a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. [At this point in our mother/daughter relationship, we don't always get along and very rarely see eye to eye. We disagree more often than not and I've been frustrated with the yucky road I felt our relationship was heading down. It is something that I have been trying to figure out how to make better and worrying that her and I would never have the type of bond that I wanted us to have. I would lay awake at night imagining her going off to college and leaving the nest without her feeling like she has a strong link to me. That's a terrifying feeling for a mom.]  But I realized as I saw her cross that finish line, that sometimes as a mother you have to just go on ahead and hope that what you are teaching your kids and the love you unconditionally give is good enough for them to make it across the finish line in their own time and in their own way. At some point in their life you have to loosen the reigns and just have hope. You can't always run with them and hold their hand and pull them along and slow yourself down with frustration and worry in the process. I recognized the fact that I need to lighten up on my feelings to control most everything in my life and take a lighter approach to our relationship. Don't force things.  I'm going to try my best not to be so hard on her. I already knew she was amazing and is capable of great things, but I'm not going to push so hard and not try and make her get where she needs to go, because she is already well on her way and will get there on her own. I read a great quote the other day that said something along the lines of "Don't be so worried about raising a great kid, that you forget you already have one."  I had the distinct and overwhelming feeling when I gave her a big congratulatory hug that everything is going to be ok with us. Not in my time which is usually now, now, now, but in time. It was kind of ironic, but I felt like that finish line represented the possibility of having a fresh start.



If I had my own Nike running poster, this is what it might say:

"That's me in that picture. I am 32.  Mom of four great kids. Wife to a hard working husband. Three years ago I never thought I'd be running. Never thought I'd love running. Never thought I'd call myself a runner. Now I'm looking forward to more races. And training for a half-marathon. Most days I have to be super mom. But when I'm running, I just concentrate on being super fast. Here I come."

Oh yeah, and that girl in the picture with me? She's a stud. An academic. Softball, soccer, and basketball player. And now I'll add runner to that list. Future doctor, writer, professional soccer player, President of the United States, mother, marathon runner -- whatever she wants to be.