It's Really Hard to Get to the Finish Line

A few weeks ago we signed up for a small 5k in Georgetown, KY, and Michael thought this would the perfect day for Adam's first real race. He's been in races before before as a participant, like the Fastest Kid in Town Race, and he's ridden others in the jog stroller. But this -- We're not talking a 1-mi kids' run or a 1.5 mile family walk here. We're talking over three whole miles on small 3-year old legs. By himself, no help from us.

We checked him in and he was the youngest competitor by many years, and only one of two kids in his 10-and-Under age category.

I took Sam in the stroller and set off with my sister, with Michael and Adam in the rear. I passed them just past the first mile marker, and he was still hanging in there.

Once I finished (certainly not a PR for me), I met up with Angie and walked back to see how our little guy was managing.

He and Michael had about a mile to go, and he had done it all on his own. He had done so well, and twice along the way told Michael, "It's really hard to get to the finish line."

As soon as he saw me and the stroller he wanted to ride or be carried, so Angie took Sam and I walked the last leg with them. We didn't pick him up. We didn't carry him. Every step he took on his own.

As we approached the last turn toward the finish line I wondered how he'd do if we asked him to run it in. I feared he'd be too tired, too whiney to run, or worse, start running only to trip and fall and cry and have to be carried across (because we've been there before on another kid race).

And then the time came, and he took off! 

Many of the other participants were still waiting around for the awards and cheered him as he finished. He was clearly so proud of his accomplishment. I heard one spectator say, "That's really far for a little guy!"

And, to make his endeavor even more special, he finished in second place in his division! He medaled!

And so did Aunt Angie!

And so did Daddy!

Three out of 4 isn't bad, right?!