Adventures of a Racing Mom

Fit mom, Marcia, and her girls.

Fit mom, Marcia, and her girls.

A big thanks to Marcia from marciahealthyslice.com for this fit mom featured blog post full of both reality and humor. To read more about Marcia and her girls, subscribe to her blog or follow her on Twitter.

I won’t lie, seeing runners cross the finish line at races with their kids beside them always makes me misty. The parent is proud, the kids are beaming, a huge accomplishment has been achieved. It may be a tad sappy, but what’s not to love?

Over the years my kids have supported me at plenty of races. They’re mostly great sports (especially if there’s candy at packet pickup) and can cheer and cowbell with the best of them. But I found myself wishing I too could share that golden moment in the sun with my kids crossing the finish line.

What could be better after those long days stealing miles on the mill while a baby spectated from the comfort of a bouncy chair or the beloved swing? After countless jog stroller outings where we inevitably pulled over for some playground action?

My day came on Mothers Day of all days, at a trail 5k in a neighborhood forest preserve. I instructed my hubby to send the kids, then ages 3 and 7, out to join me as I approached the finish line. Images of me with my girls, 3 across, triumphant and floating on air danced in my head. All those stroller runs were worth it after all. My kids would love this as much as me. I was sure of it.

Marcia's girls

Marcia’s girls

The race went off as planned. I made my way through the trails and as I emerged from the forest, heading for the home stretch, spotted hubby and the kids along the final straightaway. I beamed and motioned for the kids to join me. Here comes my moment! But my youngest, in classic three-year old style, immediately exercised her veto power and refused to budge. My oldest willingly jumped in. Except she didn’t join me. She barreled right past, full steam ahead. Her idea of ‘race’ and mine were two different things. Just as I yelled after her to wait up, one of her shoes came off. Well ‘came off’ is an understatement. In true dramatic style, it flew off and launched backwards, nearly slapping me in the face as I tried in vain to catch up with its owner.

Needless to say, the scene at the finish line was not quite the one I had conjured in my mind. But nevertheless the memory sure is sweet…and hilarious.

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