Wednesday, June 11

Daddy Rocks-26.2 in 3:53

Was there ever any doubt?

Daddy rocks!! He shaved off almost one minute per mile, coming in at 3 hours 53 minutes!! And, although this year was smooth sailing for the girls and I, Daddy's run was rough.

The girls and I had a much easier time this year, with a little help from people around us who took pity on the poor mom trying to wrangle two small kids in the midst of the chaos. And, once I told the story of last year's "incident," (oh yes, I milked that little saga) two people we now call our Trolley Angels took us under their wing and conducted crowd control along the way.

The girls had a grand time, telling me again and again, "Mommy, there are a lot of people in 'Daddy's marathon.' " They're convinced this was all about Daddy and everyone else, well, there were just tagging along. (He is so clearly their hero.)

We were able to find Daddy at mile 9,

(Hi-fives for the girls)

Mile 21

And mile 23!!

He looked great each time we saw him, just a little more sweaty, and he was sooo happy the girls were there to cheer him on, "GO DADDY!!" "HURRAY DADDY!!" "DADDY ROCKS!!"

After the run was over, we went to the predetermined meeting place and waited. We made several calls to Daddy's voice mail and waited. When Dave finally called, I said, "Where are you?"

"In the medical tent," and the hair on the back of my neck stood up, I took a breath.

"Are you OK?"

"I am now. Can you come and get me?"

Apparently something happened early in the race and Dave got a stitch in his side at about mile 13. And, true to his character, he kept going, determined to achieve his goal of finishing under 4 hours. From that point forward, Dave said, the run was pretty miserable.

At the end of the marathon, his electrolytes were so low that he became fuzzy headed. He said his tongue felt swollen and he couldn't complete a thought, much less a sentence.

Dave knew he wasn't in any condition to come and find us, so he went to the medical tent. They threw salt in his mouth, told him to lie down and, after what seemed like an extraordinary amount of time, finally gave him liquid and a banana.

As he was lying there, his legs began to cramp up so severely he was cursing at the pain. By the time we arrived at the medical tent, the pain had begun to subside, but not entirely.

(That's a grimace, as Dave fights off the pain.
Rachel and Alex were more than
a little worried about Daddy at this point.)

Once the girls sat with him and hugged on him, and looked up at him with worry in their little eyes—Dave gathered up all he had left, pulled it together amazingly quickly, and was up, pretty much recovered. (Evidence of the healing power of children.)

Once he stood up and walked out of the medical tent...,

I knew he was 'OK.' I hugged him and shed a few salty tears, intently aware of how much I love him and can't imagine anything happening to him. And, at the same time, soooo proud.

He did it—in 3 hours and 53 minutes!!

The next day, other than being tired and amazingly hungry, Dave was back to normal. No extreme soreness or injury. He actually felt better, after the fact, than last year.

But he's done with Marathons. At least for now...,


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