2.5 Miles Craptastic Strides (Thursday)
4 Miles (Friday)
Yesterday I hardly had any time to carve out of my schedule to squeeze in a run. Actually I had my day planned out almost to the minute, but a forgotten lunch derailed my afternoon schedule rendering my run the track at the University I work at to run on.
It was awful.
I made it 2.5 miles and every minute was painful and belabored. Which, as you can imagine, basically left me with a sweet taste in my mouth about this Sunday’s race. Visions of crawling across the finish line past the 3 hour mark flooded my mind in dramatic fashion.
Fast forward to this afternoon when I went out for a few miles. My mom called just as I was taking off and I was able to chat with her on my phone while I ran and keep up 8ish minute miles. I felt redeemed and not ready to give up on Sunday yet.
I reflected on what could have attributed to Thursday’s trainwreck of a run, and was hit with the answer this evening I happened to catch up on Parenthood (I just got hooked on this show recently) and was absolutely riveted by one scene in particular.
An adoptive father was playing catch with his son and I’ll spare you all of the details from the show, but a situation that many families take for granted – well this family had to fight for it – and they were relishing in their moment, their victory.
Thursday I was confronted by multiple realities and the magnitude of some issues my son is facing. Any time you adopt an older child, every milestone is a long, hard fought win. I remember the days when we made it through the day without him zoning out for 10 minute blocks of time disappearing to whatever safe mental place helped him cope. The first “I love you’s”, real snuggles and genuine (not forced) laughs come with a greater reward because I fought that much harder for them.
If there’s anything being the parent of an adopted child (not baby) has taught me, it is that it’s way harder than you can ever prepare for, the stakes are higher with the toll practically taking all of who you are, but when you get the win….oh those wins are chocolate coated, red wine laced sweet and savory. So tonight when all three boys were on the couch snuggling with me and he grabbed my hand to hold it, I remembered a time when that would not have happened. The labor from the fight for the win manifests itself in gratitute. There is simply nothing like it.
So as life is continuing on and we’re dealing with a new set of issues, I’m going to remember to fight for my son, fight for the win even when I’m tired, because it will taste that much sweeter.
And as far as Sunday goes, I feel the same way. This time around, the victory will be finishing and NOT pushing too hard to keep my injury at bay – running for the sake of running, racing not for the challenge not a new personal record, but to just enjoy the race and I am so okay with that. Okay, well most of the time I’m okay with that. And may the victory be sweet and possibly a little savory because sweet beer just isn’t great.
What wins are you fighting for these days?
What wins have you fought the hardest for?