This just in:
Running a 5k.
Let’s talk about this.
For as long as I can remember my mom and I have gone on walks together. It’s a tradition that was passed down by my mom’s mom, who I also remember going on lots of long walks with (when she was in her 80’s!). The assumption is that after dinner on a nice night the question “want to go for a walk?” will be raised and answered affirmatively.
(Now that I live 3 hours away and no longer go home for the summer, going on walks with my mom (and then going out for soft serve with my dad) is by far the thing I miss most about home.)
But in all of that walking there has never been any running. Until the past year or so, when my mom would run short stretches whenever she felt so inclined – during a walk, on her way to and from her car in the parking lot, etc. And when she did feel so inclined, she always reported back with positive feelings about the experience.
So the last time I was home, I floated an idea.
“You know, I think I’m going to come home to do a 5k in June. We could do it together!”
The idea did not float. It sank like a boulder.
“Pshhhh. Yeah, right!” was the response I received.
Then there was some coaxing, some trial running around the block, some training plans, some more coaxing – all covered by the assurance that we could always walk it if running didn’t pan out.
I came back to Rochester and left her in possession of an easy walk/run plan (walk a minute, run a minute, adding one run minute per week) and the power to do with it as she wished – no pressure either way.
A week later, she had ditched my plan.
She was already running for 30 minutes straight.
And had only fallen off the treadmill once!
Now, the 65 year old woman who had never run a mile in her life, who laughed at the idea of ever being able to run a 5k, is taunting me with threats that she’s out to beat my time. Walking isn’t even a consideration anymore. She’s going to run this and run it well.
I couldn’t be prouder. I couldn’t be more grateful that I’m cut from that cloth.
(See you at the finish line, Mom. You’ll probably beat me to it!)