Mile 24.5

Well, as you all know by now, I completed my first big race on Saturday.  13.1 miles.  It was an incredible (if painful) experience, and I am still a bit in shock that I actually did it.  The course was a lovely shaded route along the Guadelupe River in New Braunfels, and was set up so that you would turn around at the half way point of your run and finish in the same spot you began.  This may be standard practice, but what do I know, I'm a novice at this stuff.  The half marathoners like myself turned around at 6.5 miles, and the full marathoners (or crazies, as I like to call them) turned around at 13 miles.

Along the way, signs marked your progess: Mile 1, Mile 2, Mile 3.  On the way back, though, the mile signs showed only the full marathon mileage, so when we passed mile 8, the sign actually said Mile 21.  I guess they figured us half marathon folks still had our wits about us enough to do the math, but the full marathoners might not be coherent enough for subtraction.  Or maybe they just wanted to make fewer signs, I can't be sure.

Either way, I found myself just thinking of my distance in terms of the posted mileage.  Ok, I'm on mile 21 now, so I only have 5 more miles to go.  It didn't particularly matter to me that I had only personally run 8 of those 21 miles.  I was just focused on how far I had left to go.

Miles 22-24 were pretty much consumed with thoughts like, "This is terrible.  I don't want to move my legs anymore.  This is really taking a long time.  Why am I still moving my legs?"  Hey, I didn't say I would finish this race full of dignity and grace.  I fully expected to limp across the finish line and complain about my aches and pains for two days.  The point was not to erase my entire nature, just to finish something that seemed too big for me however I could manage it.  So, I'm not ashamed to admit I had some pretty whiny thoughts throughout most of the 20's (or more accurately, around the 10 mile mark for me).

But, when I hit mile 24 sign, I started to have hope.  I knew I would have to walk some of the race, but I had planned to run the last 2 miles.  I assumed the adrenaline would carry me.  In my mind, I had prepared myself for the last 2 miles being the home stretch.  In reality, I had injured my foot and couldn't run for more than about a minute at a stretch by the time I passed the mile 24 sign.  Still, I was determined to run as much as I could at that point. 

Then, something strange happened around mile 24.5.  I started to cry, not from pain or exhaustion (though I have no doubt both contributed to the tears).  I started to cry because in that moment, when I finally realized I was going to be able to finish the race and I was running through this beautiful scenery and I knew my husband and two sons were waiting for me at the finish line, I was completely overcome by what an amazing life I have.

I have never traveled anywhere exciting, I have a mediocre job with a mediocre income, I am a nobody in a huge city in a huge world of nobodies.  Chances are I will never be rich or famous or have a perfect body.  But, in that moment, I was so happy to be in my hurting, broken down body, running through the gorgeous countryside, making my way to the arms of the three people whose love gives me strength every single day.  I felt like the luckiest woman in the world out there, and I was completely overcome.

And when I made it across the finish line, with a time most folks would be ashamed to see flashing on the screen, I just held my family and cried some more.  I accomplished exactly what I needed to accomplish, and I couldn't have been more proud to see those three faces cheering me on at the finish line.

I told myself I wasn't going to talk about the dang marathon again, but I couldn't stop thinking about the moment at mile 24.5.  It's so ridiculous because goodness knows I didn't actually run 24.5 miles at all, but I remember it because I had a breakthrough out there I didn't expect.  I saw with such clarity that there is nowhere else I'd rather be.  I would rather be here in my life with all of its quirks and flaws than anywhere else life could have taken me.  All of those dreams I used to have of what my life would be like as an adult were wrong, and what's more, not one of them would have been as fulfilling as the life I ended up living.

I haven't spent a lot of time in my life being thankful for what I didn't get.  When an old boyfriend dumped me and a friend said, "Don't worry, God's got someone better out there for you," I didn't fall on my knees and to offer up a thanks-for-letting-my-heart-get-broken prayer.  When the store is out of eggs, I don't breathe a sigh that I've avoided salmonella for another day.  So, it's pretty understandable that when Linc was born with Down syndrome, though I was sending up prayers left and right, they weren't necessarily of the thankful sort.

And for that, I am sorry because Lincoln has been the most amazing surprise we ever received.  I live for that kid's smile, and I could watch his antics for hours.  He has probably brought me more laughter than all of the other parts of my adulthood combined.  He is sweet and sincere and earnest and full of joy. He has made me a better mother and a better person.  I am lucky to get to know him, much less raise him.

I guess you could say I'm feeling pretty lucky in general.  I have almost nothing the world considers worthwhile, and yet I have a sense of contentment I never expected.  I have two remarkable boys who couldn't be more different but also couldn't be more perfect in their own ways.  I have a husband who loves and respects me, who moves mountains for his family everyday, who is an incredible father to our boys, and who doesn't even make us watch football.  We have food to eat, clothes on our backs, more toys than we can find space for, and great friends who actually know what's important in life.  Honestly, who could ask for anything more?


As always, I have to say thank you to all the folks who follow our public attempts at figuring this life thing out during the month of October.  Everywhere we go, we are bombarded with kind words from people who follow the blog. Believe me, we are grateful for every word of encouragement, every person who tells us Linc has inspired them to stop using the *R* word, and every person who takes a few minutes to read about our experiences raising a child with Down syndrome. Chances are, we'll be back next October to do it all over again.  Hope to see you all then!