Physical challenges aren't my strong suit and this was the first 5K I've ever entered. Last year when Brynn was running cross country (she was awarded for being the most improved runner of the year) I promised her I'd try to walk and get in good enough shape to do a 5K with her. The transplant had lowered my blood counts and my physical endurance. If I was going to do a 5K, I had a lot of work ahead of me. Despite the stifling heat, I started walking at a local park this summer. I was slow and I wasn't walking very far, but I was out there giving it a go. When we saw there was going to be a 5K at the very same park we knew this had to be the one we "ran" together.
I certainly didn't run. Well, just for a few feet off the starting line because I signed up for the "run." The runners started 5 minutes before the walkers and I knew I was going to need that head start. Before the starting line was out of sight I was down to a walk and I walked the remainder of the race. My victorious last place finish was fine by me though. My goal was to finish the race without crawling or crying. I might have come in behind every runner in the race (and six of the walkers who passed me) but I completed a 5K and kept my promise to Brynn. It isn't all about winning anyways, right?
Actually, it is all about winning when you've won. In this race there were awards for three different age groups, with the youngest being 3-11 years old. Brynn knew 3 things: there weren't many kids, she was one of the oldest kids in that age range, and she'd run cross country in the past. She ran with her eyes on the prize and finished at around 40 minutes. Not her best time, but she was convinced she'd come in first for the elementary category. Imagine her disappointment when they only gave ribbons to the adult and the older youth (12-17)! As soon as the awards were finished and the raffle prizes had been given away her lip began to quiver. Act fast mom! "Brynn let's go to the car and talk about it there!" Too late. As the tears started rolling down her face she put her head down on the picnic table. She cried for several minutes before sulking and sniffling her way to the car. Ever heard of a sore winner?
As soon as we arrived back at my mom's house Brynn trudged up to her room, still sniffling with the occasional tear. Being the protective mom that I am, I headed straight for the computer and composed an email to the race director. Without being forceful or rude I explained how disappointed we were with the elimination of the kids awards. I mean, who does that? Especially to 3 to 11 year olds! In other words, I sent a politely worded guilt trip to her inbox. Within 15 minutes my phone was ringing.
Director: Hi, is this Shawntel?
Me: It is. How are you doing?
Director: Just awful actually. I feel completely terrible.
Good. That's not what I said of course, but you should feel terrible when you make kids cry, particularly when you make my kid cry. She was SO apologetic that I couldn't be upset for long. The ribbons had been left in her trunk and she'd forgotten all about them. Who knows if that's true, she might've just run to the store and bought three more ribbons. Didn't matter. To set things right she insisted on driving to the house and presenting Brynn her ribbon. You should have seen the magical transformation in Brynn's expression when I announced that her ribbon was on its way.
So for me, a -7 last place finish was a huge personal victory. (Let's not talk about my time. When I told a runner friend how long it took me to finish she stopped and asked me again if it was a 5K). Brynn had a real victory, with a first place finish in her age group, but it didn't feel like it until someone recognized her achievement. "It isn't always about winning" is a good lesson, but I'm glad she was able to revel in her success this time around.
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