Lucky to be along for the ride

Since December 2011, a group of us have run the New Years Double.  We have run 5ks or halves or both, and by run, I mean everything from walking to running to dancing in the ice rain crying our eyes out.  This year was no different and yet it was.

This year, we had some - shall we say 'bump?' (hahahaha that's funny stuff so laugh) - along the way that put our NYD in jeopardy.  See, I still do the back-to-back races because of Alex, it is a mother son tradition that has come to be a love and hate in our house.  Last year, it was ice raining on the Day so we didn't run.  I thought about it but realized I really wanted to do it with him and ice rain alone wasn't the tradition!  Sure, my other crazy friends were still out there doing it but Alex wouldn't be and my bed was warm (as warm as the champagne was the night before admittedly).  Back to this year, this year, we weren't sure Alex was going to be able to complete 3.1 miles.  It is a lot longer than you might think, and, well, that bump again.  But guess what?  Once again, the kiddo taught me that if you just put one foot in front of the other, we can solve any problem.  Okay, maybe this year I taught him too.  We taught each other.

This year, we lined up in the cold before the sun was up to complete our last 5k of 2015.  As always, he took off like a bat out of hell (damn 17 year old) and I sprinted to keep up with him.  Only this year, he had a brace on his ankle.  A small, almost unnoticeable brace, that kept his foot from dropping, that kept his ankle moving the way it is supposed to normally.  This year, like all the other years, he hadn't ran since the last NYD event, only this year, he also spent some time not walking.  This year, he sprinted to the 1 mile sign like every year, but this year, the 1 mile sign was his goal - it was his race finish line.  When he made it to 1 mile, he tapped that sign, which he does for every mile marker, and stopped with a huge smile on his face and I cried.  You read that right, I cried real tears down my face.  I was running with a buddy of mine who I met in a race years and years ago and he saw it.  I walked up to Alex and hugged him and he hugged me back.  A short 8 months and 11 days after having a paralyzed right leg, after using a big stick to walk, Alex ran a mile.  This was a cry zone moment - the pride was just too much.

Of course, it was then that the real race started, the 2.1 mile walk (that seemed so much longer due to a mistake on the course causing us to walk loops instead of out and back).  We spent the next 40 minutes or so talking to each other about the year, about the future, about the hills, about the ducks (I always talk to the animals).  We joked around and we were serious.  We watched the sun and the clouds.  We did every step together.  That time together?  Well, I will hold onto that forever.

The 3 mile marker came (it came twice and the first one was a cruel joke that resulted in him running and losing some steam) and he took off again as he was bound to beat me of course - which he did.  He then did something that I have seen him do before, that I have done since I was his age and younger - he stuck his arms out and we flew into the finish line.  He got his medal, his water, his bagel.  He hugged me again and simply said 'I did it Mom.'  Then he stopped and did something else that shows how much he has matured, he said 'I am tired and sore.'

Yes, there are people who have it much harder than my 17 year old kiddo, but this isn't about that.  This isn't about Alex's struggle either.  This is about his victory, his maturity, his amazing spirit that knows when to take it one step at a time, when to sprint to a line and when to fly.  This is about a mother/son tradition that has stood the test of high school and everything those 4 years have brought us.

The next day, Alex stayed in bed and I ran the race with my friends for both of us.  With every step I thought about Alex and our tradition.  In his spirit, he wanted to be there, but in his mind, he knew it was time for the body to heal once again.  The NYE race was a vital part of healing his mind and his body - reminding him about his journey, his success.  The NYD rest was a vital part of healing his mind and body too - reminding him about his journey, his success again.

Alex and I might not get the chance to do this race again, but if life has taught us anything, it is you never know what is going to happen next.  What I do know is that after an adventurous 2015, Alex walks, Alex runs, and Alex flies.  I am just lucky to be along for the ride.

12/31/2011 - 12/31/2015
One foot in front of the other - always together.