My Mom, My Sherpa

Most people think that my dad is my biggest supporter during my marathon training. After all, he's a runner too and has been a coach for almost 40 years. But actually it's been my mom who's been there more than anyone else. Over the last 8 weeks, whenever I've been visiting my parents, it has been my mom that has been my coach, my ride, my photographer and my sherpa carrying sports drink, towels and discarded layers of running apparel. (Fun fact - sherpas are the local people that escort climbers who attempt crazy things like climb Mt. Everst. They carry the packs, set up tents at base camps and generally help the lunatic climber try not to kill him or herself.)

But back to my personal sherpa. Mom has often woken early with me - sometimes before dawn - and taken me to a drop-off point to watch her first born take off into sweltering humidity, fog or rain hoping that the next time she saw me I'd be a) upright, b) breathing normally and c) preferably smiling, if that wasn't not too much to ask. She's met me at various mile markers with sports drink. She's learned to use my "fancy" camera to document my training. She's sat in her car for hours with a book waiting to pick me up at the finish and then take me to breakfast afterward. This last weekend, she even drove to meet me after miles 4, 5, 6 and 7 because it was raining and offered to pick me up because it was raining.

This week's long run was stepped back to 7 miles but I accidentally did 8 instead. Since it was raining I changed my pre-arranged route which went back on a bike trail after mile 4. I didn't want to get stuck back on the trail that was inaccessible by car should a downpour open up. So I ran to the park and did 3 short loops in the park instead. Turns out, each loop was 1.3 miles and not 1 mile. That .3 adds up fast. Each loop also included this lovely hill.


It all turned out ok though. I felt soggy, but good. And when I got done, my sherpa was there to pick me up and take me for a bagel and some cheesy hashbrowns.