Hi. I know you must be busy today with so many peeps out running in your honor, but I wanted to say thanks.
I’ve been sick lately, so I wasn’t too excited about running today, but I wanted to donate a few miles to what has become a global show of love in honor of your memory. Which sounds silly when you write it, but amazing when you feel it.
I was proud to bring you along, even if I didn’t register you for the race. I hope you didn’t mind running as a bandit. (I didn’t get water for you at the stops, so hopefully we didn’t breach etiquette too badly.)
Today’s race was perfect. It was a 5k to teach kids not to be bullies. Basically they gave kids some tips, got them to sign a pledge, and encouraged them not to trip each other on the course. Apparently tripping adults was OK though, as about 200 6-year-olds took turns running past me and then applying the brakes. I love kid races.
We were asked to make bibs in your honor. You can see I put a lot of work into mine. Oh, well. At least I spelled your name right. It’s the thought that counts, no? And I thought about you through the entire race. Impossible not to, with all the kids who are just like yours, except they have a mom.
It was so hard to look at the photos on your Facebook page. All of those images frozen in time with your kids. Once all the hoopla fades from this event, it’s just going to be them and your hubs trying to cope. No amount of miles I run will help with that. I’m so sorry.
This girl covered all 3.1 miles with a little help from her mom. Of all the folks in the race, she was the coolest. By far. Maybe you can watch over her? I’m betting she could use a guardian angel. Thanks.
Anyhow, we had a great time. I’m sorry my old-guy pace wasn’t up to your Boston-worthy standards, but I did my best. And you’ll be excited to know we took second in our age group. Well, mine, not yours. On the way to pick up the hardware, we went through a gauntlet of cheerleaders. I don’t know about you, but this was my first gauntlet. Pretty stinkin’ cool.
Here’s our medal. I’m guessing that as a mom, you’d be happy it’s a PTA event. One advantage of getting old is that you can pretty much just show up and get an award for getting out of bed. I’m sorry you won’t get to experience that.
And that was that. There was a lottery for a lot of cool prizes we didn’t win, a purple kangaroo mascot for reasons that remain a mystery to me, and that tired-but-happy glow after a race that I know you basked in so many times.
We got a breakfast burrito on the way home. The person there doesn’t speak much English and I can’t speak Spanish, so our potato and egg taco became a bean and bacon taco. But it was great. You would have laughed.
Well, I guess that’s all. I just wanted to say hey and thank you for reminding me what’s important in life. In a world that doesn’t make sense, I suppose we do what we can. We hope, we pray, we laugh, we struggle, we love. And sometimes we go out for a run with a person we never met and hope that’s enough.
I wish life always had a happy ending, Meg. I hope your kids hold on tight to your memory. I hope someday they understand what a big deal it was that 82 bazillion people honored their mom for a day.
Mostly I hope they have marathons in heaven, and there’s a major tailwind. You deserve it.
Thanks for the run,