To celebrate my completion of the beginners' running class, I went with one of my coaches yesterday and ran a 5K race in Sacramento. This was the first organized sporting event I have ever participated in (unless you count PE in Jr. High School, and I don't), and I was really nervous. I finished the race in about forty minutes, and at the finish line, I saw my parents, Ian, Max and Maggie ready to cheer for me. Max was grinning from ear to ear, and his little face was the brightest thing for miles around in the fog. As we were walking back to the car to go home, Max smiled inscrutably and whispered, "Yay, Mama!" Apparently, my parents had been coaching him to say it as I crossed the finish line, but as usual, Max set his own timetable. I didn't mind.
After the race, we were all kind of tired. (Why was everyone tired if you are the only one that ran, Chelsa? Good question, and the answer is: the race was sort of early in the morning, and it required everyone to be up and moving in the freezing cold much earlier than they would have liked. And by they, I mean Ian. So it was tiring for everyone, although I naturally claimed highest priority complaining rights.) Maggie took advantage of my inertness by nursing continually for each and every minute of the hours that I spent sitting like a bump on a log. Win-win, we call that.