The Race

I’ve said this before, but he never ceases to amaze me with his determination and perseverance.

Today was the fund-raiser for Franciscans Hospital. My daughter and a friend from her team ran; I ran; and – a late entrant and a dark horse – my son ran. My son has been keeping in shape by taking long walks and playing Ultimate Frisbee. As we made our way to the start this morning, he told me he was “going to try and run the whole thing.” I reminded him (as if I needed to) that he had really not trained at all; he had (to my knowledge) never run a mile non-stop, much less 3.1…largely uphill. And, in your face Mom, thanks for being so encouraging.

So he took off in front of me and, even at my snail’s pace, I fully expected him to be waiting for me at the top of the first hill. Not there. Nor was he at the top of the second hill, about three quarters of a mile into the race. I caught up with my daughter and her friend, and they hadn’t seen him. I must have past him and not realized it.

As I crossed the finish line in 34 minutes (with the girls just behind me), there was my son greeting me. In fact, he had been waiting there for four minutes.

Our little group raised over $500.