Mother-Daughter Road Race Blues

Me, Marg, Cole during a Saturday Fun Run

So I ran a half marathon with my daughter in October—my ninth, her first. I did not prepare well for this effort. I did the requisite long runs, but there was no speed work, no tempo training, no weight loss (grrrr). And so it was a less-than-fulfilling experience.

Marg did well. She left me at 11.5 miles and galloped, gazelle-like, to the finish line while I lumbered along, adding walk breaks freely and inwardly kicking myself for my sorry training regimen. Still, I finished only 2 minutes behind her, which makes me wish I'd just sucked it up and kept going. As soon as I crossed the finish line, I realized I had blisters, bad ones, on my left foot. I had to take my shoe off and walk sock-footed to the car. (I tried to get my husband to carry my sweaty carcass there, but he declined. Smart man.)

Now I'm considering doing the Swamp Rabbit Half Marathon in March. But this time I will do better. I will train. I will lose five pounds. I will remember that moment of regret and push myself to finish strong.

Who am I kidding?