Having Pride in Your Children

It is a very natural thing for a parent to feel pride in your children’s accomplishments. As both of my daughters remind me, I am biased (they are, of course, wrong, I am totally objective about each of them; I just happen by coincidence to have the best two daughters ever) and my job is to be proud of them (I do agree with this one).

But sometimes your children do something a bit more special.

Miriam and Tamar have talked about running a marathon together for a while. Over the last year they decided to be more serious about it, both doing a regular training routine, one in Northern Virginia and one in Brooklyn. They both submitted entries to the Philadelphia Marathon, held the week before Thanksgiving.

So this last weekend, I drove Ellen and Tamar up to Philadelphia Saturday morning, while Miriam met us there, taking the train from New York. We stayed in a bed & breakfast located a mile south of Independence Hall (a place Ellen and I found the last time we visited Philadelphia).

Saturday the girls picked up their packets and wandered around the Philadelphia Convention Center for the marathon exposition. Aisle after aisle of special shoes, special socks, belts, GPS time pieces, books, energy bars, and thousands of participants and friends-of-participants and family-members-of-participants.

The one challenge around our B&B was parking. There was street parking but until 10pm Saturday it was either for two-hours at  a time (or was unavailable). When we got back that evening there was no on-the-street parking that I could find so I parked around five blocks away in a garage.

Naturally I was so concerned about getting them to the race on time that I basically lay in bed awake all night long, getting up at 5am, walking to the garage, getting the car, picking them up back at the B&B and then driving them to within a few blocks of the start, before the crowds blocked off the streets, and returned to the B&B. Both Miriam and Tamar were excited and nervous waiting for the race to start around 7am and for their group to then begin around 30 minutes later.

 

 

Ellen and I wandered over to the five-mile mark, which was a few blocks from our B&B. It was a thrill to see them run by.

 

 

We then walked over to the mid-point of the race. The Philadelphia marathon is laid out in sort of a stretched out, very thin figure eight, with the starting point and mid-point of the marathon being in the middle. The first half looped downtown to the east and a bit south, the second half looped out through parks going west and a bit north. Thus people who did a half-marathon started and stopped at the same point, as did those who did a full-marathon.

We thus were able to see both girl’s as they got to the mid-point, 13 miles into the marathon, as well as they finished. They told me afterward it was a bit difficult to get to the middle only to see the elite runners, those running a 2.30 or so finishing at the same time, knowing they still had the second half of the race to go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Approximately two hours after we saw them pass us they came back again, finishing their first marathon together. They told me how when they were given their marathon medals they both cried, evidently a pretty normal reaction for first-timers.

What made me proud in particular was not just that they had run a marathon, which was very special, but that they had done so together from start-to-finish. During their training and during the race when one had difficulty the other provided support and pushed each other to continue.

I love them both very much. Ellen and I are very lucky to have been blessed with the best two daughters ever.