It's kind of like I quit blogging...

And I was okay with that, until George said he wanted to run the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot 5K with me....



Then I knew I would need to post pictures about that! If I were to say something about what I most want out of life, on the list somewhere would be to have kids who love running. Much like some of my best memories are of running races all around the US with members of my family, I would really love to run races with my kids, all around the world!

So I told George he could totally run a 5k if he wanted to. After all, he can come home from school any day of the week, and run 2 miles on the treadmill, so 5k is just 1.1 miles further. I told him I'd do it with him, but he had to train.

He trained MINIMALLY. He could have trained more, that's for sure. But knowing my George the way that I do, I knew that the experience and the emotions of a race would be something that would only benefit him. I knew that physically he could run 3.1 miles, and that emotionally he would be soaring. So I wanted to help him accomplish his little dream.

The race was on Wednesday after school, and when he came home from school, he nearly talked himself out of it ten times. And I was having a hard time knowing what my role was. I DID NOT want to be some crazy "stage" mom who wants to throw their kids out there for all the world to see, how great I AM. I only wanted to help him accomplish something that he wanted to do. But I'll admit that I was struggling with the line I was walking.

In the end, I told him if he didn't feel ready for it, there would be another race on another day. But ultimately, I didn't want him to feel disappointed in himself or regret that he didn't do it. He came back to me in about five minutes and just said, "Mom, I'm going to do it!"

So off we went.

It was 100% the correct decision. To experience, all of the struggles, challenges, joys and excitement of Georges' first 5K race are almost too much for me to put into words.



When he saw that he was the only kid there, he grew about two inches taller. When the race started, and he looked back and saw that he wasn't going to be the last person to finish, he grew another two inches. When we turned around at the half way point to run back to the finish line, and he saw all the adults STILL BEHIND him, he was completely shocked. And when he saw Darin and the kids parked a little ways up the road, all standing in front of the van cheering and clapping, I thought George's heart might burst. And for all those moments of realization for my George, well, it's basically priceless.

The last half mile were totally hard for him. He wanted to stop, but then he told me how hard it was to start running again after you stop running, so I knew that I should just help push him through. I decided to tell him the story about when he was born.





Once labor started with George, things progressed really fast, and I basically pushed once, and he was out. So I crafted that memory into a story for him during the last half a mile to help him forget how hard the running was getting. And I told him that ever since he was born, I knew he was going to be a really fast kid, because he was born so fast. He liked my story. And before we knew it, the finish line was in sight. And right as we turned up the way to the finish line, all the adults who had already finished gathered around and totally started yelling and cheering, just for George. And I felt so proud, because he totally earned that applause. Because running 3.1 miles is hard for lots and lots of people, and he did it, he totally did it. And he's only 7.



And the thing is, I knew he could do it, but I'm not sure if he knew he could do it. It's so important to have experiences in our lives, when we surprise ourselves. It builds our confidence and helps us remember to set the bar a little bit higher the next time we have an idea, and that's how you achieve things. And I think George is here to achieve things. I just do.

The race director was so excited that a kid came out to participate in the event, that she wanted to give him a prize. I guess they were out of airplane trophies, because instead, they gifted George with a ten pound frozen ham! And then I learned a lesson, it pretty much doesn't matter what the prize is, people just love to win a prize. George wanted to carry that ham around with him for the rest of the day. And if you bump into him on the street today, he'll probably tell you that he won a ham at the race yesterday. And he's totally excited that he's providing the meat for our Sunday dinner this week. He really, really is. Just ask him.





So, that's the story that made me want to write a post on my blog again. I hope you agree, it's a good story.

And while I struggle as a mother with all the tiny details of my responsibilities towards all these amazing people who call me "mom", you have no idea how grateful I am that I was physically prepared for the day when my son told me he wanted to run a race. That I could run with him and comfortably pace him and talk to him and pull him through, because it was not physically taxing to me at all, I realized how grateful I am for my body. I spend a lot of time hating my body, because I'm a girl, and we do that really, really well. But through this little experience with George, I realized that it can accomplish things, and I should just be really grateful that it's strong and capable. I love learning new lesson/being reminded of old lessons.

And now it's Thanksgiving, and I feel all full of things to be grateful for. Like when I look from the kitchen to see the Major surrounded by his adoring off spring, all cracking up at the latest family friendly video on U-Tube.

Or when I look at my ladies, and remember the time when I pleaded with all my heart to the Lord for ONE little girl, and He answered my prayer with TWO.

That's all I have to do on any given night, to remember all that I have to be grateful for. It's a lot, I know.