One of my husband’s goals this year was to run a half marathon.
Obviously COVID threw a spanner in the works. The race was delayed from May, then to October and is now maybe in November.
So there was a wee change of plan. Instead of running 21k with lots of people, a few weeks out from the new date, he decided to do it anyway around our nearest park.
He headed out the door as the kids and I were each doing our own thing. No starting gun and definitely no fanfare.
An hour in, I rallied the troops to get ready, including water (for him) and snacks (for them). As usual, the kids took forever to get out the door, with my daughter’s usual complaints about socks and coats.
We made it just in time to catch him at the predetermined meeting place. As we followed him on our bikes for the last three k’s, my daughter pulled out a medal she’d been awarded in her running club.
For Dad’s big achievement.
This heartwarming gesture wasn’t even undermined when she didn’t make it to the finish line due to the emergency snack break… or when she said he could only have it for a week…
Although asking for half his celebratory bacon sandwich was a step too far.
Tough Mother 