So Proud

This past weekend Josh ran the OKC Memorial Marathon. My friend, Mandy, came from Tulsa to watch and to help out with the kids. Early Sunday morning, we met Josh's mom and Mary's husband, Ben, at Ben and Mary's house then walked over to Edgemere Park. We were able to catch Josh and Rachel (the marathoners) and Toby and Mary (the half-marathoners). It was very exciting as we were there when the first runners ran by. It was a beautiful, quiet spot with just enough spectators to make it exciting. I had my camera out ready to take a picture of Josh and Rachel, but I couldn't get it snapped quick enough, so I had to take off sprinting (if you can call what I do sprinting, that is) up the hill to get in front of them so that I could actually get a picture of them coming towards me instead of away. Yeah, that was my marathon for the day.


Then we drove up to Lake Hefner and found a spot along the track just in time to greet Josh as he ran by. This was about the 17th mile marker spot. Rachel then ran by a bit later. It was great to see them both again. Then, once again, we loaded up and drove downtown to meet them at the finish line.



It was a wonderful and emotional experience. Fourteen thousand runners and 14,000 different reasons for running--a man in a wheelchair: 26.2 miles; a blind man tethered to a seeing guide: 26.2 miles; a soldier in full uniform, complete with boots and a backpack: 26.2 miles; young, old, men, women...and my husband: 26.2 miles. It takes more than the physical ability. It takes a strong mental drive, a determination, a resolve within you that will NOT allow you to give up. Twenty-six point two miles of pavement is a lot, but it's much more than that. It's the hundreds of training miles ran for months before the gun even goes off on race day. It's the hours spent listening to the sound of your breathing, your heartbeat, your shoes slapping the road beneath you. It's the running through mud puddles, down dirt roads, in the dark, in 40 mph winds, in the hot sun, in the bitter cold, in the wee hours of the morning, startling a large bull that had gotten out of his fence, running from unleashed dogs yipping at your heels--running when you'd rather be doing anything else. It takes a "reason" that echoes in your head every step of the way. You're running toward something--a goal you've set for yourself, the inspiration you desire to be for your children, a dream you've always envisioned, a victory that proves to yourself that you are a strong person--in every way. It's running to win. Yet, winning does not mean coming in first. In this case, winning is crossing the finish line knowing that your reason, your one out of the 14,000, has been fulfilled.


I know all this about running, because I ran this race too. Not physically, but emotionally. I know, because Josh has shared his thoughts and fears and hopes along his journey of the past four months. For him, running is intensely personal. Yet, at the same time, myself and the kids were intricately entwined in his act of running. And so, seeing Josh run toward the finish line, physically exhausted, was a victory not just for him--but for our family, because I knew that he had accomplished one of his life dreams. I was, and am, so proud.