I am a runner.

I really don't know what to write. I could be funny and talk about how I sweated like a pack mule, heave myself forward rather than actually "run", and all the training and blood, sweat, and tears I had to go through to get to this place. I had all these visions and inspirational wisdom, and thoughts of what I would write- but to be honest I want to keep it honest and simple... I ran ten kilometres on Saturday the 21 for the Doctors Without Borders. And it was easier than I thought it was going to be. Yay training. I didn't turn around at the tempting 5km halfway mark because I knew Shawn and kiddo were going to be somewhere along the way and because I stopped caring what place I was in or if everyone else except me looked all of a sudden like Jillian Michaels. I kept running because I could. The beautiful repetition of one foot in front of the other, going forward no matter what. Slowly but surely. I ran because I could run. I ran and I thought. I thought about my family. My mother -how much she enjoys kiddo. My brother and his epic pilgrimage across an entire country and his bravery and willingness to just throw himself into something and finish it no matter what (family resemblance maybe?).  I thought a lot about my Dad- about how proud he'd be of me. The race was right near the U of A and I remember driving around there many times when my brother was at baseball practice, and me and my Dad talking about me going there. About how I never even applied to another university- and how proud he was of me. I thought about what he had to go through and how what I was doing seemed trivial and silly and not painful compared to cancer. In fact it put it all into a much better light for me- could it be that running was joyful and a celebration of the fact that I am alive? I hope every day he knows how much I loved him. 

When kiddo and Shawn met me at the 5km mark I ran up and saw H giving me a HUGE grin that he does so well and it made me so happy to have him see his momma practicing what she preaches. If anything I can exercise to be an example for him. Shawn pushed the stroller for about one kilometre with me and then they tailed off- with H saying "good run mama" and waving at me and blowing kisses. If anything will make a momma cry that will...

My time isn't something I even care about. I could post it but it wasn't about that for me. I only race against myself. I finished just as they were giving out the prizes, needless to say I wasn't a contender for a prize. But my prize was seeing my two boys waiting for me at the end frantically waving and trying to take a picture. I finished and felt good. And my family was there cheering me on, as a runner. A little piece of heaven that was.