Old Dog, New Trick
When my daughter, Marisa turned eleven, a friend at school told her about an event the YMCA was sponsoring over the summer called, “Kids can do 26.2”. It was to promote kids staying active during the summer. I helped her train and get ready for the race for ten weeks. The day before the race, we went to the Amory to pick up her bib and t shirt.
The armory was a flurry of activity with sports, snack and other race vendors. I saw a slim, very fit woman setting up a booth. I picked up one of the pamphlets she laid out on the table. “Moms in Motion” it said. “Hi,” she said extending her hand toward me. “I’m Deb. Are you a runner?” I smiled and shook my head. “No, I’m too old to start that”. She laughed. “You’re never too old to start something new!” I listened intently as she spoke about the “Moms” and I have to admit that secretly, I wanted to try it. Deb asked me where I lived and then proceeded to tell me that there was a new leader who wanted to start a team in Webster. She wrote down all the information and handed me back the pamphlet.
The next morning, my husband, son, daughter and I left for Frontier Field. “Are you nervous?” I asked her. “No way”, she replied. I’m excited!” “You’ll do great!” My husband told her. Frontier Field was mobbed. Kids and parents were everywhere. The race atmosphere was exhilarating. There was music, spectators, and other vendors. There was an announcement that the race was about to start. We headed over to the start line, and in no time, they were off. The route was 1.2 miles around the stadium. She was beaming when she came in. “Whew!” “That was long Mom!” Up until the actual race, we had walked most of those twenty five miles.

While Marisa was recovering, I told my husband I wanted to watch the “real” race for a little while. People were lined up on both sides of the finish line waiting for the first runners to come in. Before long, a runner rounded the corner and ran toward the finish line. People were cheering, clapping, and holding up signs. In a booth close to the inflatable arch, the runner’s name was announced. An enormous digital clock on the other side of the finish line displayed the time since the race began. I watched as a volunteer scanned his bib to record his actual time and another placed a medal around his neck. I caught a glimpse of his face as he approached his family. He looked ecstatic and completely satisfied with his accomplishment. I thought to myself, “I can do this. Then another thought, “Are you out of your mind? You’re forty six years old!”
Well, I went to the first Moms in Motion training the following Saturday. I met the new trainer, Linda who told us it was her job to help us achieve our goals. “Think about what you want your goals to be for this session during our run this morning”. Goals? Was she kidding? My only goal at this point was to be able to run for ten minutes without passing out or tripping over my own feet. She had mapped out two, three and five mile routes. I grabbed a two mile slip with the directions. At this point, I didn’t care if I was running alone. I knew the area and was comfortable with that. I put my Ipod ear phones in when a voice next to me said, “I’m doing two miles too. Maybe we can keep each other company.” I found out that my running partner’s name was Alayna and she was not a runner either. It was something she always wanted to try.
I did make it through the two miles, stopping only twice to walk. We went every week and it became easier. I was a steady, consistent runner, but slow. My pace was about eleven minutes per mile. I didn’t care though. I was doing it. Alayna and I eventually picked a five mile route and were surprised when we completed it without incident. I shared with Linda my desire to run in the marathon that fall. She suggested we start out doing the half. “Its 13.1 miles”, she said. “You can do that.” Alayna said she would do it with me. We agreed that the half marathon would be our marathon.
Training for the half takes about sixteen weeks. We started the second week of June and followed the running schedule Linda gave us, incorporating local 5k runs to get us used to the race atmosphere. We saved our long runs for the weekends since neither of us could afford to spend two-three hours running in the morning before work. My family and friends were supportive and encouraging. My friend, Lynn, who has always been an avid runner, doing the Boston Marathon twice, was probably the most encouraging. “I’ll pick a few stops along the route and will be there in case you need anything”, she said. I truly didn’t know what to expect, but took in all the advice I could from others who knew what they were talking about.
Race day! I told Alayna I would pick her up a little before six a.m. unsure of how the traffic would be. The race started at seven thirty a.m. I got up early and got dressed, got my water ready, my fruit snacks-(a tip from Lynn) and stretched. I had told my husband not to come making the excuse that it was too early and it was Saturday. I didn’t really think about it at the time, but now I know I was afraid I would fail and he and the kids would be there to see that.
I was scared. My stomach was in knots. I choked down a half a piece of toast with some peanut butter, grabbed my bag and headed out.
We made it to Frontier Field and connected with others from our group. We were all in about the same shape. Nervous but excited. It took almost ten minutes for us to cross the start line once the race began there were so many runners. I told Alayna to just go and I would see her at the finish line.
Quickly, the faster runners made their way ahead of the slower ones. I turned up my music, started to relax and enjoyed the scenery. There were people lined up and down East Ave clapping and cheering us on. It was almost like being in a parade. I really started to pay attention to all the runners around me. There were young, old, slim and heavy runners out here. Every one of them moving at their own pace and not caring what the person in front of them was doing. I caught sight of a man running in front of me, in his seventies, wearing shorts, no shirt, knees bowed. He was wobble-running and we were running at about the same speed. I laughed to myself. After a few minutes, I caught sight of Lynn. “How are you doing?” she shouted. “I’m ok!” I replied. “Hey Lynn, there’s my pacer!” I said gesturing to the bow-legged man still running ahead of me. “Go get him!” she said.
I started to get tired as I approached mile seven. This was the canal path behind the University of Rochester. It’s only four miles, but seems so much longer. The full marathoners began to pass me up. I started to get discouraged watching all the lithe runners gliding smoothly past me as if they were out for a Sunday stroll. I quickly shook off that thought. Linda always told us a good run was 90% mental. I was going to finish!
Before too long, I was crossing the Ford Street Bridge, then down Plymouth, to Frontier Field. Spectators lined both sides of the street. I spotted my pacer. I had lost him around mile eight. I ran faster. He hobbled around the corner to the finish, and I wasn’t far behind. The thought entered my mind, “Not only am I going to finish this race, I am going to beat my pacer!” I ran smoothly past him and heard them announce my name as I crossed the finish line. Three hours ten minutes. I’ll take it. Alayna had finished just shortly before I did. We were happy. We had made our goal a reality. Sometimes you can teach an old dog a new trick