In addition to being the reighning Wii Cheer champion in our house, my husband has come out for every event I’ve participated in for the last 10 years with the sole purpose of cheering me on.
Even though I’m the one who signed up for the event, he still drags out of bed early in the morning to make sure I have everything I need, drops me at the start line, meets up with me at several mile-markers along every marathon and half marathon I’ve ever run, and – he buys me beer afterwards… The man truly is a prince.
He’s not a loud or obnoxious individual (I get dibs on that in our household)… He doesn’t shout, wave pompons, or blow whistles when I come running, walking, or hobbling by… but he stands there, looking for me in the crowd until he finally spots me. And then he smiles at me and says in his regular speaking voice “good job, babe!”. And I know that I can go on from there.
When I saw him at mile 19 of the one full marathon I’ve done, I started crying and told him I just wanted to get in the car and go home. He smiled indulgently and said “no you don’t, honey… you’re doing fine and you’re going to finish”. He was right, I did.
Even before race day arrives, he is the one who calms my nerves and reminds me that I can do it. He’s the one that listens to all of my negative self-talk about being out of shape, getting old, never being very fast… and just encourages me anyway.
When I told him I was going to sell my bib for the Nov 5th Half marathon I signed up for (but didn’t train for)… he said “booooooh!”. I said I’d end up having to walking most of the way… He said “do it anyway”. Still unsure a few days later, I received this image from him on my phone:
I laughed and said “yep, I am” and decided I’d do the Half anyway… because I know I’ll see his smile every few miles and I’ll be able to go on from there.