P is for...

Proud

I'm proud of Daughter. Yesterday we were at the Morton Arboretum for their Fall Color Run. I did 5K, and she did a half mile.

I'm not proud of her because she finished first - she didn't.
I'm not proud of her because she was the best dressed there - she wasn't.
I'm not proud of her because she ran the whole half mile in record time for her- although that was cool.

I'm proud of her because she didn't quit. Daughter has a tendency to quit things when they become difficult. She has a past littered with dance classes, gymnastics classes, art classes, etc. When they got too tough, she didn't want to do them any more. At the race on Sunday she forgot to drink any water before the race and ended up getting what's commonly referred to as a stitch in her side. Even though it hurt a lot (there were tears after the race was over,) she didn't give up, she kept on going to the end and finished as fast as she could. She did mention that she was never running again, but after the investment I made in shoes and running shorts, she's going to keep running for a while, I assure you.







In case anyone's interested, I was 22 seconds faster than last year. I ran it in 31:55 and came in 754th out of a field of 1562. Among the women in my age bracket I came in 46th out of 126 competitors.


Before the race started, in the giant crush of humanity.


At the quarter mile.


Near the end.


Within moments of finishing.


How I did, approximately.