So this weekend is hardly shaping up to how I envisioned it a couple of months ago: I'm currently sitting on a bus to Inverness, trundling through the gorgeous Scottish highlands in the gentle autumn sunshine, but the last five weeks leading up to this point have been terribly bittersweet.
My weekender bag feels dolefully light without my running kit in it, and my running number sits untouched in my bookcase back home. My ankle is still twinging and strapped up like a candy cane, yet I am still making my way to the River Ness running festival. Mr MFC is running is first marathon, and of course I want to be there to support him.
It's probably best this way. Perhaps the universe thought that I would be needed more on the sidelines than on the running track. I may not be running this weekend, but there will be other races. This is the only opportunity I will have to watch one of my favourite people cross his first marathon finish line, and that is priceless.
You know what they say: if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. So, I am taking my role as supportive spectator with as much gusto as I would if I was actually running the race.
Clapping hands at the ready...
No comments:
Post a Comment