May 15: 13 Miles, 3 Sisters

This morning, at 6:00am, when I was wrestling with the decision to either get out of bed and feed my hungry kids, or lay there for ten more minutes pretending to sleep so that Mike would do it (I chose the latter), my three little sisters were walking a half-marathon in Pittsburgh.

While I don't yet wish that I had walked the half-thon with them (ugh. pushing myself physically?  No thank you), I do wish I had been there to cheer them on.  I also wish that I had known about the "New England proud" dress code--I would have lent Brigid my Red Sox hat.  ((Make mental note to buy her one if she doesn't have one already))

Looking at this photo makes me feel so proud to be the big sister to three beautiful, talented, hard-working women.  I know how much preparation went into this 13 miles and I applaud them for doing it.  While I didn't participate in the event itself, I did have the great pleasure (sarcasm) to join them on one of their training walks.  At the start of all of this, Megan and Mary were the only two on board.  During a family get together at my parents house, Brigid mentioned that she was going to join them the following day for their morning walk, and then eventually decided that she'd participate in the lucky 13.  On that night in mid-April, I joked that I might also show up for the morning walk.  They encouraged me to join them, but ultimately, laughed it off, knowing that walking for any great distance was the LAST thing I was interested in (unless the walk ended with donuts or beer...or both).

The next morning, to their great surprise, I showed up, ready for the pain and possible humiliation of walking 6 miles with these three physically fit young ladies.  They were pretty shocked, and made a few VERY funny jokes about me going out the night before and buying sneakers and workout clothes.  "You own those??"  Megan said, eyeballing my Helly Hansen kicks.  "Mike made you buy them, didn't he. Have they ever been worn??" Snarky-second-sister-makes-me-belly-laugh moment.

We got going and I felt good.  Kept pace (which was closer to a run, than a walk...sickos), chatted happily with the girls, cracked a few jokes about crashing and burning on the walk...asked if we could stop for candy along the way...all of the normal stuff.  "You'll be fine with this, Mol.  You're probably in better shape than you think."  Mary said.  Little-sister-gives-big-sister-more-credit-than-deserved moment.

I got to about mile 3 and I was starting to become VERY interested in returning home.  They continued to push me, only checking in occasionally, trying not to overdo it with the "Hangin' in there Mol?"   All the time, I'm sure they were secretly whispering to one another "Do you think she's going to make it?"  "I don't know, we might have to call an ambulance...this could be embarrassing."  and "I've never seen someone's face turn that color before...she might be dying."

Miles 4 and 5 were pretty brutal.  Thank goodness for Brigie, who walked with me, letting the competitors keep their race pace.  She was supportive, encouraging, told me I was really doing well, especially given the fact that I hadn't worked out in, oh, 4 years or so. At the appropriate moments, Brig would shout at me ala Jillian Michaels of the Biggest Loser.  "Just think of Jillian, Molly!  Jillian would be screaming at you do finish this thing!  The Biggest Loser contestants can do this stuff and they are horribly overweight!  You can do this."  Sweet-sister-does-what-it-takes-to-support moment.

I don't remember mile 6.  I don't want to remember mile 6.  That is a period of my life that will forever be a mystery.  

Finally, the walk ended...and I didn't crash and burn.  I don't know if it was the reference to The Biggest Loser (I cry during EVERY elimination, I swear to you), or if it was sharing a moment with the girls that I love so much, or if it was the delirium that set in after mile 4 (I'm pretty sure I was speaking strictly in Pig Latin at that point)...whatever it was, I made it through and I actually think I enjoyed it. 

I returned triumphantly to my parents house.  My sisters dropped me off after mile 6, then got back out there to complete 2 additional miles...freaks.  I sat down, took a few breaths, got up, walked into the kitchen, drank a glass of water, and then cut a sizable piece of chocolate peanut-butter cake and ate it, sans utensils or plate, hands only.  I guess there are some things that will never change.

End on this-- big-sister-swells-with-pride-over-little-sisters'-accomplishments...not just for a moment, or for a half-marathon, but for a whole life.