Moving on

The birthday celebrations are over, the tissues are packed away for another few months and I have a ton of pictures waiting to be downloaded.

In the meantime, guess what I did last Saturday. 

No.  I didn't got to the hot springs and soak for an hour followed by a massage.  Guess again.

No.  I didn't get my hair cut and colored and buy a new wardrobe.  You're not very good at this guessing thing are you?

I walked/ran a 10k.  (Emphasis on "walk".)

Now that I think of it, your first two guesses would have been much more comfortable.

Last Saturday was the Annual Family Care Network Miracle Miles for Kids benefitting an amazing organization that provides help and homes to foster youth and high needs children in our county.  Let's face it.  If I'm going to get out of bed early on a Saturday, drag on my running shoes and walk/run for 6.2 miles, it'd better be for a good cause.  It is.

I arrived at the beach in Morro Bay, a little late.  Originally, my plan had called for carrying Elizabeth in her Ergo and pushing Joseph in a jog stroller.  After all, the race information claimed that the run would be on hard packed, flat sand.  (HA!)  Fortunately, Chad's parents volunteered to watch the kids.

Thank God.

The race started out nicely.  I set out at a steady, slow jog, looking out over the brilliant blue ocean.  At the one mile marker, I started to feel a looseness in my hips.  Not a good looseness.  A joint popping looseness.  I settled into a brisk walk.

Still feeling good, I pumped my arms while looking ahead for the two-mile marker.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a couple gain on me and then start to pass.  Glancing towards them, my confidence popped like chewing gum in a teenager's mouth.  She was wearing stretch jean capris, a polo shirt and a pink visor.  He was wearing jeans, a matching polo shirt and a sweatshirt thrown jauntily over his shoulders.  They walked by as casually as if they were taking a quick stroll after dinner.  That's right, boys and girls.  I was being passed by a couple who looked to be in their late 60's, early 70's.  They left me in the dust.

Worried that I might actually finish the run in last place, I looked for the ever elusive two-mile marker.  The hard-packed sand gave way to tide pools and rocks.  Scrambling over them, I gave a little prayer of thanks that I didn't have a baby on my back and a stroller in my hands.  Reaching the other side of the rocks, I looked ahead for the mile marker.  Waves, sand and more rock met my gaze.  Worried, I called Chad.

"Baby.  I'm not even to the two mile marker and I'm starting to struggle."

"You'll be fine."

"No.  I really think they're going to have to send a helicopter and medevac me."

"You'll be fine."  He's so supportive.

I met up with Ruth and Kristina from my mom's forum.  Talking and walking, we struggled through soft sand, crossed shallow streams and scaled slippery rocks.  We helped moms with strollers and wished for drinkable water.  And then, just when my feet started to go numb, we saw the finish line.  Digging deep, we found our last wells of energy and took off at a jog across the sinking sand to cross the finish line, red faced and panting for breath.

Oh and I guess they didn't put out a two mile marker.  Or it got swept away by the waves.

While I'm on the topic...congratulations to Becky.  She ran the whole thing.  Ran.  Two words:  Rock. Star.