K's First Tri

Seven years ago today I was in the High Risk Pregnancy Unit at Northside Hospital in Atlanta. I was flat on my back, 28 weeks pregnant, wrapping up my 4th week of hospitalized bed rest.

There was an awful lot I hoped about the future...but there was still much uncertainty.

If you had told me then, that I would be on the sidelines on my daughter's first triathlon 7 years later, it would have seemed incomprehensible.

Today, my baby girl, who was born 8 1/2 weeks early, weighing only 2 pounds and 12 ounces, completed her first youth triathlon.
She set up her transition area.
She lined up with the swimmers in her age range. (Wouldn't you love to know what 6-7 year old girls discuss before a triathlon?)
She swam 50 yards before exiting the pool and sprinting to the transition area for her bike. (That's her Daddy running next to her...more on that later.)She put on her jersey, her shoes, her helmet and mounted her bike.
Then she rode 2.4 miles on her bicycle. (Please note my husband running along side her again. It makes my heart smile.)

She completed the race by running .5 miles.
As she crossed the finish line, I fought hard to hold back the tears. I think I finally understand the phrase 'my heart was bursting with pride.'
P seemed to feel the same way. (For the record, R was supportive of his sister...but it was a long afternoon...and there were big boys playing football nearby...)

It was an extra special surprise for k to win third place in her age division. (In terms of full disclosure, there were only 4 participants in that division. We are exceedingly proud of her regardless!)
And tonight? Well, she is sleeping soundly and I can't seem to get this silly grin off my face. God taught me a beautiful lesson today.

This was K's race. She had to train, show up, swim, bike, run, push through and finish...but her Daddy & I ran a race of our own this afternoon. We plowed through bushes, took shortcuts through the parking lot, sprinted to get prime views. We worked hard to be on the sidelines in as many places as possible during her race--shouting words of encouragement, waving homemade signs, telling her that we loved her.

We couldn't run her race for her. But, we did our best to be as present, as supportive, as encouraging as possible along the way--and it made a difference. When she saw us, she perked up. Encouragement led her to pedal harder, run a little faster, push through her fatigue.

And we all celebrated in the end!

What a glimpse of parenting and our role in this race of family life.