Race for Hope

This morning was the Race for Hope - the race that started this whole crazy running thing. As you know, this race for me is about honoring my father's memory and raising money to help find a cure for brain tumors. A cure simply cannot come fast enough. I have watched this race grow exponentially over the years. It is bittersweet to see so many people - thousands and thousands of people - each with their own story about this horrible disease.

It is uplifting to see the survivors in their bright yellow shirts, ranging from toddlers in the midst of their fight to others who have been to hell and were lucky enough to come out on the other side. What I wouldn't give to see my dad walking during the survivors tribute... In my dream, he's wearing his fishing hat and gives me a thumbs up from the starting line. It devastates me that my dad was not one of the lucky ones. But this is why I race.

Today the weather gods smiled on us - after last year's unbearable heat and humidity, it was a cloudy, comfortable morning in the 50's. I really wasn't sure if I'd be able to run the race today. I was just so happy that my foot healed enough that I was able to cross the starting line. I knew I would have to take it slow and steady to be able to run for any length of time, and when the start came, I think because my expectations were so low and I had put zero pressure on myself, I wasn't the least bit nervous and just wanted to enjoy myself and the experience. And I was so touched by the amazing donations and words of support I received from family and friends. I didn't want to let them down by not doing my best.

I started at the back of the runners pack and settled into a comfortable pace with the slow pokes right away. The first mile, as always, seemed to take forever. It did help to have the wonderful downtown DC scenery to take in, though. By the time I got to the water stop half way through, I finally felt warmed up. Mile 2 was there not long after, and was my goal distance to run. I figured I would start walking at this point and then do a run/walk for the rest of the race since I hadn't run a continuous 3 miles in over 2 months. But I felt good and I threw up a prayer to my dad, asking his help to keep me going. That was the moment I decided that I would not stop. Don't get me wrong, this was no Chariots of Fire. I was barely at a 12:00/mile. But I was running.

Making the turn down Pennsylvania Avenue I could see the balloon arch at the finish line and I was overwhelmed with relief when I realized I was going to finish the race actually running. The survivors cheered us all at the finish line. I ran alone, with no one to share this amazing feeling with, but I know my dad was with me. It wasn't my best race time, but for so many reasons that are more important, it was by far my best race.

Miles run since last post: 6

Miles run total to date: 53
Miles to go: 312