Friday, November 29, 2013

Drumstick Dash: Thankful for a Running Family





Thanksgiving morning was spent trotting along the Drumstick Dash route (minus Collin who spent the morning nice and warm with Grandma and Grandpa Wood).  


We quickly consumed back the calories burned at the race!  My sister-in-law and I modeled our boots and matching scarves!



The Joseph side of the family at Thanksgiving.


Time with Grandma and Grandpa Wood too.


What's a holiday without a brief ER visit!

After many years of marriage, I've learned that my husband is not me (and I am not him).  That means that just because I love something doesn't mean my husband holds similar affections.  And vice versa.  I certainly don't swoon over Notre Dame football and European soccer like my husband.  And he, well, let's talk about yesterday.

Yesterday morning we ran the Drumstick Dash.  The boys, Chris, and I joined 18,000 fellow runners to trot along the 2.5 mile route.  The temperatures were frigid with a windchill in the teens.  We selected positions in the middle of the pack hoping to suck warmth from the body heat of the crowd.

The people watching was a sport in itself.  Turkey/pilgrim/pie-themed attire dominated racing wear.  Dogs, kids, and costumed spectators lined the route and joined the procession.

Despite the Siberian-like conditions, I found the whole thing delightful.  I was running (jogging is a more accurate term) with my family on Thanksgiving.  We were running at such a pace that we really were able to savor the surroundings and interact with our fellow runners and each other.  A festive holiday mood floated among the participants and showed up in conversations and light comments.  

But for my husband...perhaps this wasn't his cup of tea.  Seeing it through he's eyes: he was standing in the bitter cold after working a late night shift in conditions that would make cattle claustrophobic.  He wasn't impressed.  If give the choice between a morning spent in a coffee house or pounding the pavement, he'd choice the latte.

We crossed the finish line apart.  My husband and two sons finished first.  Cooper and I fell second.  As we walked to the car, we swapped stories.  My husband talked about how one son encouraged the other through doubt and discomfort to finish strong.  We laughed about how crazy the whole deal was between the cold, the crowds, and our kiddos.  We touted the charitable aspect of the race to the kids, explaining how race proceeds went to a local homeless shelter.  

After a while, my husband recanted a bit.  Perhaps running the race wasn't his first choice but the experience turned out to be priceless to all.  It was a similar feeling I had after watching a football game at Notre Dame stadium; the experience was not my first choice, but ended up being a blast and a precious memory.

And so on Thanksgiving, I was grateful for:

-a husband willing to run in frosty conditions for his family,

-a family healthy enough to run,

-an extended family joining us for the holidays,

-a mother-in-law who is a whiz at turkey prep,

-a mother who makes a mean mash potato casserole, and

-a Savior who gives all good gifts.





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