There's something to be said for accountability. In 2007, I had signed up for the Chicago Marathon and planned to run it on my own. Needless to say, life got in the way and I didn't train properly, so I didn't go. For the past 10 years I have wanted to run a marathon. I've always viewed it as an experience of facing extreme physical demands and pressing on any way...despite your mind's better judgment urging otherwise. So, when my friend Thom suggested we run one in Louisville, I took the bait and ended up registered for this stupid...I mean...incredible race.
On April 30th...3 days after I turned 30....this old man "ran" 26.2 miles...yes all in one day. I also achieved my goal...no, not a time, but my goal of not riding home with a hospital bracelet on my wrist. But, back to the accountability...I couldn't have done this without the peer presssure...er...encouragement from my wife and from Thom. It was an awesome experience. I truly know my limits and for the first 19 miles or so, it really was a good time. The last 7.2, though, were extraordinarily painful. My knees, hips, and ankles became molten lead. I had, during the darkest part of my journey, told Thom to go ahead because I felt like I was holding him back...he shortly thereafter hit his own personal wall and we ended up finishing together.
But along the way, I experienced emotions I never had during any athletic event. I have felt despair, I have endured fatigue, I have held my head up with pride, and I have expressed anger throughout an event, but at Mile 23, all of these fought a battle within me. Nothing would have felt more satisfying than laying on the curb and having someone take me in...but even in that low point, the importance of persistence and endurance prevailed, and all it took was a text message.
Of course, who texts during a marathon? Answer....a tortoise does. I had my phone on my arm for musical purposes, but to keep Kara (who was convinced she was becoming a widow) informed of our progress. At Mile 23, which should really be called Misery Mile, I texted her to let her know I was walking the rest. I broke down emotionally...I have let myself down.
My phone vibrates...the text reads, "Nolie and I are so proud of you. Find it in you to finish, you will be fine." In hindsight, I'm sure she was sick of standing there 7 months pregnant in the heat, so she would have said anything to make me run faster. But, those words, helped me tap into a place a didn't know I had. I said my share of prayers during that time and with all of this, I leaned forward, and my feet followed.
Up to this moment, I had always run for me. Now I was running for my wife and my son. Those words made me feel like a dad for the first time, and I'll never forget that moment...I didn't want to let either of them down...and I drew strength from that.
So, here we are just before crossing the finish line and then posing with Kara after inhaling some carbohydrates.
I've never been so hungry in my life. So, if you are interested in running a marathon and are looking for someone to run with, be sure to NOT call me...I will only talk you out of it and there is a 0% chance I will ever run a full marathon again. I will stick to minis from this point on.
A Name for Our Boy
So...if you haven't picked up on it yet, we've decided to name our little guy Nolan James. We both love the name and Kara had the idea of his middle name being after me, and of course I'm not going to say no to an awesome name like that.
30
So, now I am north of 30. April 27, 1981, 8:41 P.M., I was born in Owensboro, KY (So, I'm not a Hoosier by birth). It's hard to believe considering graduation from college seems like last week. But, I'm not having a mid-life crisis yet.
I had a great birthday, though. We had family and friends over for a little party the day after the marathon and I had a great time. My parents came up....I'm so lucky to have great parents who are the reason I'm here in the first place and I'm glad that they will be enjoying their first experience as grandparents.
So, I hope Nolan doesn't think his daddy is too old since I'll be 30 when he's born. I don't think he'll care much, but I hope he'll have memories of me before my hair turns gray...which I'm sure will accelerate after he is born.
Update
Last thing...we went to the doctor yesterday and found out our boy is right on schedule. We go every 2 weeks now, so we're getting close to game time here. We now have a dresser and a crib in the nursery.
We also found an adorable hat for him to wear during basketball season this winter.
Finally, after experiencing difficult Mother's Days for the past few years, Kara finally got to celebrate as a mom-to-be...so, some guy got her roses.
**Go through your day asking, "How can I make someone else's day a little bit better?" Look for opportunities, they are everywhere.