Encouragement

"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat." ~Theodore Roosevelt

34 years ago I was one month away from turning one, and my sister was almost 4 years old. My mom and dad heard of a new race in Boston called the Bonnie Bell Mini Marathon 10K and my dad encouraged my mom to enter and run. Today this type of story is commonplace, but 34 years ago women had literally just been allowed to enter and run road races and most women had not yet built up the courage to do so. But my mom is a pretty strong willed woman, and she is lucky to be married to a very loving and encouraging husband so off to the race she went. She was probably nervous, and there's no doubt in my mind that she wondered if she could do it, but she did. She did it 34 years ago, and has continued to do it ever since...every year...never missing one.

Yesterday we all hopped into the car to head into Boston for mom's 34th Tufts 10k, and my 15th. It’s my mom’s Glory Day every year, but this year I was unusually focused on what I was going to do. I was feeling strong and had a lofty goal in mind. I told everyone that my goal was to run under 9 minute miles, but only Ahren knew that my real goal was to hit closer to 8:30s – my track “10K pace”. I was nervous, and I wasn't sure I could do it, but Ahren encouraged me on the ride down, and my dad texted with me back and forth before the race, reminding me that sometimes I'm stronger than I think I am. The race started on the usual busy street full of excited mothers, daughters, and grandmothers, and mom hugged me with an energy that oozed pride for her daughter, returned by mine with the same feelings for my mom. The gun went off and away we went, winding the same roads we had run along so many times before. My first mile was filled with doubt - would I be able to get through this huge pack of people? Would my sore feet and ankles loosen up eventually? Would my stomach hold out? Would my hip fall apart mid race? But as I ran along, Ali chatting by my side, I felt nothing but good. First mile was 9:10, but we were held back by the crowd. Ali said goodbye after the first water station and I was on my own.

Mile two came in at 8:25 and I was feeling good - really good. It was shaping up to be one of those days that everything comes together and as my pace picked up I just kept in mind what Ahren told me on the way in - "If it gets too hard, just slow it down a notch." Mom and I got to whoop at each other as the course turned back on itself just before mile 3 but after that I chose to ignore the women passing by on my left, and focus on the ones I was passing on my right.

Mile 3 clocked in at 8:18…faster still. As I continued to weave my way through the crowd I began to reflect on how lucky I was that my parents chose this path for themselves, and for me. A path filled with challenges that we set for ourselves, sometimes failing, but never regretting the effort. Throughout my entire life my parents have encouraged me to try new things, harder things, uncomfortable things, and have always been there to cheer me on. Over the years I’ve realized that sometimes knowing that someone else believes in you, is enough to erase the doubt you have in yourself. Sometimes when things get tough, all I hang on to is the fact that mom, dad, Ahren, my coaches or my kids think I can do it, so they must be right.

As I hit my split at mile 4 and saw 8:13 I gave myself a little cheer, and then started thinking about Lexi and Zach, and how lucky they are to have two generations of cheerleaders always on their team, always cheering them on. They probably won’t appreciate it until they are in their 30s, but I hope it will shape their lives and it has shaped mine. Lexi often insists that she is not capable of some activity or skill, and she gets furious with me when I insist that she can do it, and that I have faith in her. I remember feeling the same frustration with my parents – and then setting out to prove them wrong, and only proving myself wrong…again. Lexi does the same thing, and I see the pride in her eyes when it happens. She wants to be mad at me for being right, but her excited energy takes over.

Mile 5 – 8:15, not slowing down, I blame the hairpin turn on the course for the lost 2 seconds…I’ll make it up. As I flew over the Mass Ave bridge I thought of the many times I could remember catching the approving look that my parents would shoot each other over my head when they were proud of me, but they didn’t quite want me to know it just yet. Ahren and I shoot the same look of approval to each other with Lexi and Zach. That look that says, “That’s our kid!!” Over time I would live for that look. And now when I’m feeling really great about something I’m doing, I can’t wait to tell my crew all about it. They believe in me even when I don’t, and I don’t want to let them down. I want Lexi and Zachary to know what that feels like – how it feels to have someone believe in you so much that it gives you the energy you need to complete the task at hand.

As I took one of the final turns of the course I felt like I could run forever, and I just wanted to go faster. I passed a mother running with her young daughter and teared up a bit. I’ve been the daughter of the team for 15 years and counting, and I know it won’t be long before Lexi is out there with us – the idea of three generations on that course gave me even more energy and I blasted by mile 6 at 8:03. I turned the last corner and felt like I was flying toward the finish line. The crowds were cheering and I felt like I was going to explode with joy. I almost leaped across the line, but I controlled myself so that I could get my high-five from Joanie. 52:07 – 8:24 average pace. I rocked it. It was not my fastest 10K, but it was more than I imaged I could have done at this point. No one else was surprised – my mom, dad, Ahren, Ali, my coaches – they all knew I could do it. I did it on my own two legs, but I didn’t do it alone. It felt great, and I am so, so grateful that my mom took that ride into Boston 34 years ago.