A year ago today, I ran the CDPHP Workforce Challenge at 36 weeks pregnant. It’s a tradition I have, to run one race while pregnant with each kid. It’s also a personal tradition of mine to do the Workforce Challenge. The hospital where I work is huge, and the race itself is huge. I can go to the race and disappear amidst the 10,000 participants and have time to myself, sandwiched in between walks to and from my car wherever I manage to find a parking spot downtown.

In order to do the race, I have to sign up in February, because the 10,000 spots fill up long before race day. I missed it a time or two because of that, and now I have a reminder in my calendar that lets me know when it’s time to sign up each year.

Except this year, in February, things were so bad that I couldn’t think about May. I couldn’t plan anything definite so far ahead. Just getting through each day took so much energy, let alone thinking about the future. So February came and went. March, too. And in April, things started to get better. Now it’s May, and things are a lot better. It’s the different between the frozen tundra and the rainforest, really.

I couldn’t have known that in February, though. So I didn’t sign up.

Today, I’m thinking about every previous year that I left my house later than I should have to drive downtown in rush hour traffic. With half the roads already closed in anticipation of the race, I’d be driving around in circles trying to find a place to park.  My heart would race as I imagined not making it in time to get my number and line up for the race.

I’m remembering the precious lady from my work who organizes our participation and always has everything ready for me and lets me leave my phone and water bottle with her.

I think about lining up at the worst start of any race I’ve ever run. It is a seething mass of people. We can never quite hear the anthem or the live entertainment along the sides of the start line. There are so many people that you can be quite alone, invisible in the crowd.

Once we start, the raceway quickly narrows, and the first mile often takes 13 minutes or more because that’s as fast as you can move in the crowd.

The walkers always start too far up, and they always walk in the middle of the road and everywhere else, too, so running the beginning mile is like pinball, trying to get around clumps of walkers so that you can be free to move.

Last year in particular, it was unseasonably hot, with a high of 94 degrees. Many people just didn’t show up to the race, but I think there were still 7000+ runners. My pregnant lady self was completely swollen. I had just deflated after our Oregon trip, and the running and the heat quickly puffed me right back up again that evening.

When I entered the race, I had to give an estimated finish time. Knowing I would be 8 months pregnant, I had predicted a pretty slow time for the race. For the first time in many years, I found myself walking sections of the race. (You might say I became part of the problem mentioned above.)

As I came down toward the finish line, I was red as a beet and I’m pretty sure I looked almost as horrid as I’m capable of looking. But I had beat my projected time by a good two minutes! I was completely satisfied.

After the race, I grabbed a water and a banana and walked around for a bit to cool off before heading to my car. There was a storm building and great gusts of wind were carrying leaves, dirt, and garbage in clouds into my face as I walked the half mile or more to the car. I didn’t know if I would make it before the the rain started. I got to the car just as the first, fat drops started falling.

As I drove back home I watched the lightning flash over the city. The kids were waiting for me on the front porch.

Tonight, while the runners are lining up for the race, I’ll be sitting on a couch with the Chaplain, spending some quality time with our marriage counselor. And that’s fine.

Next year, hopefully, May won’t seem as far from February. And perhaps, come May, I’ll be lining up with the other runners and walkers to do the race like I have in years past.