"That's ok, I like myself enough for the both of us."

I have a fairly (over)active fantasy life.  And when I'm not being a kung-fu kickboxing mutant ballerina in my head, I also leave time for daydreaming about upcoming events.  How I hope they will go, how I think they'll actually go etc.  Sometimes it's completely different then I pictured, usually it goes partially the way I think and sometimes, very rarely, it's damn close.  

I have an amazing friend, who I reconnected with around November of 2011 through Facebook.  We went to high school together and her daughter K is about 2 months older than G.  We playdated and got along quite well, and (less importantly) the girls have fun, too.  She began her fitness journey a bit before I did, but I was quick to follow.  

I did my first what was supposed to be 3k with her, but due to signs being all wrong and huge misunderstandings everyone was all over the place and we have no clue how long we ended up walking.  Did I mention she was about 20 weeks pregnant at the time?  Yeah.  I came to the conclusion I am not the racing type, due to my painful reaction to being on asphalt in what turns out to be crap shoes.  I'm more of a treadmill, see how much ground I can cover in 30 minutes by myself in my bedroom kind of girl.  Or better yet?  Go to kickboxing class.  

She however has gone on to do marathons, triathlons, Ironman, I mean this girl is a force to be reckoned with.  This last year she became an Ambassador for a charity called Elenore Rocks, which you can find HERE.   The short story is that they make rocking chairs for the families of babies in the NICU to cuddle and love on their miracles comfortably.  Seeing as my friend's 11 year old son had 3 open heart surgeries before the age of 5, she's familiar with the plight of trying to bond with your baby in total crap circumstances.  After running some races in their name, she decided to go ahead and put on a 5K to benefit them.  Crazysauce.  Meanwhile I'm all uhhhhh what should I make for dinner?  

I asked her trepidatiously, if she would rather I volunteer the day of, or participate in the race.  Of course she said "Participate!" enthusiastically.  I was like; Ugh.  I went home that night, and fired up the treadmill to see if I could even run 5K.  It had been awhile.  I did, in 29 minutes 27 seconds and seriously wanted to barf the rest of the night.  Probably the delicious (deep fried) honey walnut shrimp was not the appropriate pre-run food choice, but it was a last minute whim.

So I had proved to myself I could do it.  In the safety of the flat treadmill of my house, did I want to run the gravely hills of the trail with everyone?  I thought it over and decided, G with no trouble, walks down the 1/2 mile driveway to our gate.  I do carry her back in the ginormous back pack, but that's because it's at a ridiculous grade.  The trail would not be like that, I was sure she could at least get a mile in walking, leaving me just over 2 miles carrying her if needed.  I could totally do that.  I picture it being a joyful experience, teaching her that going outside, exercising, socializing, these are all important parts of life.  I talk to my husband at dinner, and he says; I'll do it with you, and my MiL says sign me up too!  I am overjoyed that my family wants to share this with me.  

The day of we get there at the asscrack of dawn.  Good lord these things are so early.  We get our numbers and wait for it to begin.  My very good friend I've known since high school J is there as well with her miracle preemie baby, (also) J, born 12 weeks too early, and now 7 years old and walking a 5K with us.  B makes a speech about how much this means to her, how hard it was to be in the NICU with her son, and I start the race sniffling up snot from having shed quite a few tears.  We hung back, letting the runners go ahead.  We find B's husband, E, who my husband has known since high school, and his daughter, G's little friend K.  We discover it's his job to be last, to make sure everyone makes it in safe, and decide that is perfect news!!  The girls can do their best together and we'll get in when we get in.  

All photos credited to my MiL, Granny. My phone was all; You're out of room!  No pictures for you! so I am eternally grateful she got some good ones.  

They go strong for I want to say at least a mile if not more.  They play chase with Granny, running between the adults as the group drifts apart and then back together again.  Eventually they do get tired, and dads swoop them up to save the day.  (I offered but J wouldn't let me.)  After a bit they get their energy back and ask to get down and they're off  again.  E hangs back with a couple people and K is up further with us, G asks to go back in the backpack and K looks a little droopy so I ask if she wants to piggyback.  We get to the one steep hill and my friend says; "Whoo, that was hard."  But I was elated! I tell her; "It won't get any harder than that!  This race is almost over and we did fantastic!!"  I put down K, convince G to get out of the back pack and off we go, rounding that last turn to every single other person that had run, (we were indeed last) cheering for us.  

This was exactly what I pictured.  Holding my baby's hand as we went across the finish line.  What I didn't expect, was my husband, my MiL, G's friend, my friend, and my friend's 7 year old to be with us.  

We listen to all the names called, winners of their age groups, amazing times, cheering for each of them.  I know G wants a medal, she wants to 'win' the race, but her and K were kinda last minute, B is planning on giving them medals if there's some leftover, but there was a lot more people than expected so I wasn't sure.  I prepped G that she did a wonderful job, and she didn't need a medal to know that.  B goes through everyone, and says; "In the under 5 category we've got 2 winners; G and K!!" and they ecstatically go up to get their medals.  I'm crying again.  I knew she wanted this, she ran her little heart out, and she was So. Happy. to be recognized for it.  

Then B says; and to another NICU survivor, the Special Effort award goes to 7 year old J!!  My friend J's son.  

And that was it for me.  The Look On His Face.  I'm balling, his mom is balling.  G is like what is wrong with you people?  I'm choking up just writing about it. 

It was beyond perfect.  It was absolutely an amazing day.  Better than I could have ever pictured in my head, and I'm so grateful to have done it.  

Afterwards we went to a bakery, that had 1 vegan brownie, that was actually fudge, that tasted like peanut butter oddly enough, that G devoured on the way home.  She had a damn good nap that day too.  

I can't wait to do this again next year.  I'm plotting all the people I'm going to force to do it with me.  Maybe someday I'll run one, we'll see.  But this was just perfect the way it was.

*My quote is from this new TV show we've been watching called Mom.  It is super funny and I recommend it.