May the Course Be With You

Race course, that is.

On Sept. 11, the culmination of months of hard work and sacrifice finally arrived. James spent several months getting up early and running in the wee hours of the morning to prepare for a half marathon. He started out running 2-3 miles daily and worked his way up to 11 miles over several weeks. The hard work may have been on his part, but the sacrifice was all mine. I had to give up my sweet, happy husband for a grumbling, crotchety one. He hates running. And yet, he did it. Every. Dang. Day. And then came home and told me how much he hates running. And how bad his legs hurt. And how he was sooo tired. No, but really, he was still sweet and happy, just a little extra complainy. It was cute. Mostly.

Anyway, it all came to an end that day when James ran his 13.1 miles in 2 hours and 30 minutes. What did I do all that time? Well, it was hecka cold, and I was not prepared, so Isaac and I booked it outta there before the race even began. We wanted to stay and see him off to a running start, but they kept delaying the race time, and poor Isaac was all red-cheeked and sad. So, we left, went home to sleep for an hour, then got all bundled up and came back. By that time, the race organizers had started cooking pancakes and waffles, so I dug in while my dogged husband was pounding the pavement. I'm all about being supportive. So, after I had my fill, and Isaac had spent a good half hour playing at the playground, we wandered over to the finish line and cheered James as he crossed the line like a champion. I was immensely proud. Even though he claims to hate running so much, he had made a goal and he had achieved it. My husband is awesome. And you know what? He says no more half marathons. Hurrah. ... He's now set the goal of running a marathon next year. Can someone say masochist?

Here's the handsome man on race day:

 Stretching before the race.

 More stretching.

 You can tell Isaac is loving this.

 Bad Mom forgot a jacket for baby, so we improvised. 

 Luckily, James got a t-shirt from the race, so he gave Isaac the one he had come in.

Excited anticipation? Rueful disbelief that he's actually doing this to himself? You decide.

 More stretches.

 Here he is lining up to race. Right before I took off like the awesome wife I am.

 And here's the reason they kept delaying the race. They wanted every one to get a chance to use the bathroom. Did they not have toilets at home? Come on, people!

 I tried to get James to pretend to start running, but he thought it wouldn't be convincing, what with all the people standing still behind him.

 See, Isaac, I got you a jacket. I'm not so terrible a mom.

 Isaac, smile. You love the swing.

 You love it.

 I swear.

 Yeah, Mom, whatever you say.

 I tried to get a shot of him crossing the finish line. That gray dude is him. Getting his chip clipped off his shoe. It's not the best action shot, I'll admit.

 Checking his time on his awesome watch.

He is the champion, my friends.