Qualified for the NY Marathon in 2012! But Do I Want to Be?

My 6 year old daughter, Olivia, is a party girl. She will find any occasion to celebrate something: half birthdays, Groundhog’s Day, the Vernal Equinox. On the evening of Saturday, June 18^th, Olivia ran up to my husband, Wil, and shouted: “Daddy! Happy Father’s Day Eve!”

This – among other things – makes Olivia a lot of fun to be around; who else can get you excited over the cat’s birthday or the longest day of the year? The downside, though, is that little girl sets herself up for a lot of disappointment. Some of our celebrations are out of our control, and they just don’t live up to Liv’s expectations. Take last Thanksgiving, for example, where we celebrated at someone else’s house, a place I have nicknamed The Land of “No”, where Olivia and my 3 year old son, Ben, weren’t allowed to touch anything and poor Olivia got yelled at for eating a carrot with hummus in the living room (I know!!! WHAT was she thinking? Sigh).

So, when do you get excited, and when do you live in dread of something you may not have control over? I thought about this just last weekend. No, I wasn’t eating chips and drippy salsa on the couch at the Land of “No”. I was in the middle of the Queens Half Marathon.

I know; I run races practically every day. What made me get so philosophical during this one? Well, to qualify for the New York Marathon in any given year, you need to run 9 races with NY Road Runners the year before it. And this half marathon was going to be race #9. Last year I ran my 9 races, finishing in early December. Though it was about 7 degrees out (at least it was in my head, now that it’s such a distant memory), I remember being on the biggest runner’s high of my life, knowing I had accomplished a feat that as “Fat Girl” I refused to even think about. I was qualified for the New York Marathon!

The problem, though, is that the marathon is in November. So, to qualify for the 2012 NY Marathon, I had to run my races before I ever ran the marathon this year. Was it going to be as much fun as Ben’s half birthday was last year (where we sang half a song and made and decorated half a cake)? Or was I setting myself up for the Land of “No”?

This is what went on in my head as I ran in circles around Corona Park in Flushing, Queens (and let me tell you, there is nothing more ridiculous than running 13.1 miles completely within a park that is maybe ½ mile at its widest. Talk about running in circles…). As the 90 degree heat (really this time) beat down on me and my steps got slower and slower with each hot, sticky mile, I couldn’t help but think “Why am I doing this? What if I don’t like the marathon this year? Why bother qualifying for next year?”

At about mile 11, I didn’t want to keep running. It was hot. I was a sweaty mess. My knee was killing me and my stomach was growling. But then I thought, “You’ve run ELEVEN miles. What’s another 2?” So, I picked up my pace a bit. And that’s when it hit me. Two years ago I was never hot or sticky from running. My stomach growled because I was sad, bored, happy, name your adjective. I was fat and unhealthy. I never thought about dreams because I didn’t think I could attain them. And I never challenged myself. Ever. I was too scared of disappointment, so I never thought that any challenge was worth the reward.

I finished those last two miles. I limped, I sweated, I couldn’t wait for it to end. But I did it. I crossed the finish line with by far my worst half marathon time ever, and knew I had once again qualified for the New York Marathon.

As I hobbled over to my car where I was certain that rigor mortis would set in and by the time I got home I would permanently be the same shape as my car’s seat, I thought again about Olivia. She happily looks forward to every holiday, real or created from her 6 year old mind. She is happy to take a gamble and hope for the best, and takes a random heartbreak as it comes. She is not missing out on the good stuff because the occasional holiday goes south.

When I got home from my race, I told Olivia that I had qualified for the marathon. Liv immediately got to work, creating decorations and place cards for our dinner that night; we definitely had something to celebrate.