Don’t Be Last
Apr 19If you like this article, please share it with your friends!






Thanks to all of you that commented, phoned, and texted me with your support and encouragement on Saturday– Race Day/Beasley Moving Day. When I announced that I was running the Charlotte RaceFest on Moving Day, I had a few friends admit to me that they thought I was officially suffering from a nervous breakdown. I assured them that I haven’t…. yet… but be sure to tune in next time.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I submit this as proof that this actually happened…..
If you can get past the Goofy Victory Grin and the outta control ponytail, I’d just like to point out that I WASN’T LAST!!! This being my first half-marathon, I set out to simply finish without having to walk any portion of the race. The night before the big day, however, I lay awake thinking, “Not only do I want to finish… I want to finish before the last guy does.” Right around mile four, I told myself that if I could just out-run the power-walker, the backwards jogger, and the girl in the highlighter-pink T-shirt that read, “Don’t Be Last”, I would satisfy my inner-challenger. And I did! If you’ve ever run a road race, you know that the sideline cheerleaders are the ultimate speed-inducer. There were people sitting out in front of their houses with their blankets and their coffee mugs clapping and cheering. One woman veered off course to kiss her husband {well, I assume it was her husband} holding a sign that said, “This isn’t the hardest thing you’ve ever done.” And you know what, it’s true! Any of you that have given birth {or suffered an actual nervous breakdown} can attest to that. A slumber party of middle school girls met us at the end of their driveway in their pjs with a string of high-fives, and at one point, I was so motivated, I started clapping for the police officer who was directing the race traffic. I felt the neighborhood love and what can I say, I simply wanted to give back.
All of that, and this was waiting for me just beyond the finish line…
Hugs and congrats from Team Salina {or Team Mommy for two out of the four little ones}. Even the onsie was sporting #runthistown on the back. Seriously, way to make a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown feel like a total rock star. The race adrenaline lasted me through the Beasley Family Epic Move of 2012 later that day. I was so amped, I couldn’t fall asleep that night. Sore {good heavens was I sore} but amped, nonetheless.
Speaking of this-isn’t-the-hardest-thing-you’ve-ever-done… I have to go dig my family out from beneath a sea of moving boxes. Updates and pics of the new pad to come…
Have a great week, and DON’T BE LAST!
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