The nervous apprehension I have for the fact that I'm running my first 26.2 is being barricaded by the joy I feel about running another 5k with my youngest son. We ran the Pre-Father's Day 5k last year and I wrote about it here in a training blog I was keeping with my cousin. (...who is bad-ass for having finished 2 marathons and a triathlon.)
All three of my sons run. All three have run in races with me. All three compete against themselves, aiming for new PR's all the time. They talk about how much a race "sucked" and then they say "yes" when I ask if they'd like me to sign them up for another one. I wish I had a sliver of this kind of perseverance when I was a kid. This is an infinite circle of blessings that keep coming back to me- I love to run, I had only hoped my kids would run with me- all three of them do- all three of them have inherited this healthy habit from me- I love running with them- I love to run.... and it goes on over and over and over.
They won't be coming to Lake Placid with me. The 6 hour drive made them all shudder and I understand and respect that so they're spending the weekend with their father. So the 5k we'll be running in a couple of hours from now means that much more to me. It will be an integral part of the memories I have of my first marathon. So if you'll excuse me, I've got something awesome to do. And I need to get my do-something-awesome tube socks on.