Raise your hand if you've ever run a long-distance (half marathon or longer) in a pair of shoes you've run in approximately once? Right. I can't see you but I'd guess no one raised their hands.
Such was the situation after sis (FR for fledgling runner) broke her shoes THREE DAYS before her first ever race, a half marathon Aug. 14.
I'm her coach, as I've detailed in this blog, an experienced runner with three entire races under her belt. As such, it's a coach's responsibility to remain composed, stoic even, in the face of such adversity. I never let on how worried, practically horrified I was, that my baby sis, er, I mean, client, was running under such conditions.
We dined the night before with sis and her boyfriend, also running the race. He was a bit quiet, nervous no doubt. Sis seemed OK. After dinner she called to say she was, well, kind of nervous and wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep.
My voice like soothing honey, I reassured her she'd done the work, there was nothing more to do, told her to get everyone ready racewise (put the bib on, attach the chip to her shoes) and above all, to have fun. Races are the gathering of thousands of people who've come from wildly varying places, some having overcome unimaginable obstacles, everyone converging to accomplish one goal. It's neat. Incomparable really.
She texted at 5:30 a.m. Sunday morning: "Thanks 4 all your help coach. Now just me and course."
I quickly wrote back: "Have fun!"
This is not meant to be a dramatic cliffhanger but broter is kicking me off computer.
Coming soon: The Race
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