This week’s theme is “Wise Family Circus Takes it on the Road”. Yes, that’s right folks. Step on up and see these appropriately-dressed pseudo-runners as they attempt to follow a half-marathon training program. Let’s watch on:
-While waiting for my run to begin, I noticed that my tennis shoes were untied. So I bent over to tie them and a waterfall of ice cold water cascaded down my back, into my ears, armpits, nose, and aforementioned tennis shoes…because the Camelbak hadn’t been closed properly. I chalked it up to extra evaporative cooling.
– Alex runs circles around me….literally. He happens to run faster than a 17.31 minute mile and so he will run ahead, turn around, run past me in the other direction, turn around again, and then start the whole process over. It makes me feel really successful if I can run an entire street length without him passing me twice.
– Both of our Zunes died at the same time on Run 1 of this week, so we had to run sans music, which means that my grandmother, who’s had both hips replaced and uses a walker, can scoot along faster than the pace that I was running BUT I did continue to move in a forward direction.
-We skipped run #3 this week because we were moving. Sue me.
– Alex and I have subconsciously developed a silent system of communication. In case you see us running, here’s the translation:
- (Beth’s) Twirling finger in the air like it’s a party= “Hey. I know you’ve already passed me six times but that hill was in a recurring nightmare that I’ve had and I want to do it again for training purposes.”
- (Alex’s) Hands outstretched like asking a question= “Do you want to go uphill or downhill?” (The answer is almost always down).
- (Beth’s) Pointing at something in a yard= “Look! I want you to be distracted by the fact that my speed isn’t fast enough to even register on your GPS watch!”
- (Alex’s) Rolls eyes= “Gracie waited until the yard with the heat and motion sensors to empty her bowels and I forgot to bring a plastic poop bag!”
Really, though, I’m kind of impressed that I’ve been able to do this silly program so far. I mean, my personal belief in my running abilities is insultingly (and truthfully) low but when I finished that 40 minute run (I mistakenly typed 40-mile run and fell on the floor laughing), no matter how slowly I ran it, I was pretty proud of myself.
We were talking about how this half-marathon fundraiser is a perfect pairing for adoption. This adoption journey is NOT going to be easy and it will test our physical, spiritual, and emotional limits. We have to prepare for adoption and we have to expect, when the day finally comes, that it won’t be easy. Nope. Even though we’re preparing for the half-marathon, we know that it’s going to be a rough 2-4 hours. I fully expect to cry when it’s over. We’re preparing our bodies for something extremely difficult, just as we’re preparing ourselves to deal with the sadness, anger, grief that will inevitably come as our little girl learns to heal from the trauma she’s experienced. We have to push through the really tough parts of a run (i.e. hills) just like we’ll have to push through the horrendous wait times and bureaucratic red tape before this child that we love can become truly ours.
Lesson learned this week: Keep moving forward. One step at a time. Just finish it.
(Wanna read more about our adoption and our fundraising? Click here.)