It’s funny how when you are born, you just instantly and without (too much) effort become daughter- you don’t earn that title, its just given to you and you are.
I AM A DAUGHTER.
Same thing when one becomes a mother (although, maybe a little more deserved with 9+ months of pregnancy), a few hours of labor, they place your child in your arms and instantly you are a mother.
I AM A MOTHER.
I never had a problem calling myself a daughter, or a mother. But it took me a long time to call myself a runner. I am not built like a runner. I do not get up early and pound the pavement early in the morning on a regular basis. I only recently learned some rules of the sport, but I run. And I train. And I sweat. And I love the runner’s high.
I AM A RUNNER.
I talked Andy into doing the Air Force 1/2 marathon with me a few months ago and as training schedules go- I set out on an 11 week preparation to get my PR- a personal record after last year’s first 1/2 marathon go. I signed up on a Friday for the run and the following Monday, I got a foot injury, putting a damper on my ambitious plan. I didn’t run for nearly six weeks.
Since the bill had already been footed, we thought we would just go out there and give it a go- but I had been feeling so good in the past week, that my ambitious runner’s side wanted to run ten minute miles the entire way.
Let’s just say, it didn’t happen.
And I got really down on myself. I thinkI know that the only way I made it to that finish line was because Andy was there encouraging me the entire way. He’s so much quicker than me, but he refused to leave me. He’s such a good partner, thank you, Andy.

On the course, I was amazed by the fierce emotions that one could possess toward others- perfect strangers that happen by my side if only for a few strides, some for a good chunk of time.
The cancer survivor wearing his yellow “Surviving Cancer: Priceless” tee with pride. I was moved by him.
The two darling paraplegics in wheelchairs being pushed by some amazing men. I saw their giving hearts on the road.
Two more paraplegics in their own sporty chairs zoomin’ by. Their strength gave way to victory.
The husband that ran in his wife’s place after being killed during her own training regimen just last month. I did not see him, but I thought of him. And her. I thought of their story- that he was out there in her place because she couldn’t be. Her name is Michelle, and she was a fellow crafty mama, you can read her story here. I tear up just thinking about her.
For mile 5, I thought of my mom, my personal hero. She walked her own course of victory last weekend for breast cancer research, raising over $1,800 to get there. She has over come adversity in her youth, beat the odds of becoming smoke free after 30 years, and is in my book, the best mom. Well deserved title.
At mile 6, I dedicated the footing to my sister. I prayed for her and encouraged her to run her own race telepathically- perhaps one day we will together.
For mile 9, I dug deep and recalled the people to which I could share this run with. Or at least help pull me through. My dad, my brother. Anna. Crick. I thought of my uncle, because I love him and he never did a race like this. And I wish he had, I wish he had.
The volunteers out there handing out cup after cup of water and Gatorade- they were all smiles and encouragement. Same with the crowds on the sidelines- the fist bumps, high fives and cow bells that rang- they really DO help!
I am not sure how I got to the finish line,* but everyone has their story. How they got there, why they are doing it and how they get through it. When my body overwhelmingly told me I was not physically ready to do this, my mind kept looking for the people around me and the people in my heart to whom I could do this for, and it got me to the finish line.
The magic # for the day was 2:25, not a number I was hoping for on my finished record, but when it came down to it, it is apart of my story now.
I AM A RUNNER.
*well, it was Jesus, we talked a lot, too