We’re leaving for Hartford in about an hour. We’re all packed and ready to go. I’m looking forward to finally being on the road. And I’m finally looking forward to running the race. Wish me luck!
Oliver woke up screaming at a little after 2:00 this morning. His cries came to me through my dreams, but it wasn’t until Simon started knocking on their bedroom door that I realized someone needed help. I ran to their room, turned on the light, and found the boys, wide awake, in their beds. Oliver was still screaming, of course, and Simon was as alert and chatty as if it had been 2:00 in the afternoon. I took Oliver out to sit on the couch so I could evaluate the problem. Too cold? I put some warmer pjs on him. Did he hurt? No, he insisted. Thirsty? No. Hungry? Yes. I got some crackers out to the cupboard, gave one to each of the boys, and sent Simon back to bed.
Oliver and I laid down on the couch with a blanket. He was calm and content now, but couldn’t stop squirming. Just as I thought he was settling into a position, he’d get up, crawl all over me, and try again. Over and over and over. I gave up. I thought he’d have just as good a chance falling to sleep in his own bed as he would with me next to him. I put him in his crib. He started crying. I thought I’d give him some time. Surely he must be tired. I went back to bed.
“Thanks for taking care of that,” Micah mumbled into his pillow as I collapsed next to him.
“Let’s not be too hasty. He’s still crying,” I said.
“I didn’t hear him at all.”
“It was the knocking that woke me up.”
A few seconds (minutes?) later the boy was still crying. Micah got up, got him out of his crib, and laid on the couch with him for the rest of the night.
This week I’ve been trying to imagine things about the race to get excited about. Mile markers, favorite songs, hills, etc. I’ve imagined myself feeling good, enjoying the weather (which is supposed to be just about perfect), and pushing myself through the hard parts. But still, I’ve been anxious about all of these things as well. That the hills will be harder than I imagined (especially the one at mile 25 . . .), the mile markers will be way too far apart, the weather will take an unexpected turn. And then I remembered that Micah and the boys will be able to cheer me on along the course. It won’t just be at the finish line that we meet up, but along the way as well. And when I imagine the boys yelling, “Go, Mom! Go!” or “Run faster, Mom!” (which I am well acquainted with) and see Micah holding their hands and smiling his encouragement, that’s when I really do get excited about the race.
Things may not go perfectly. I could trip. I could hit the wall. I might get leg cramps. But, even though I can’t foresee any of that, at least I know that they’ll be there to cheer for me. And after I’ve crossed the line, they’ll be there too. They’ll offer me a drink, some crackers, and a jacket to keep me warm.