Pride (In the Name of Love)

Last weekend I had the privilege of accompanying Sara on her big day of walking a half-marathon (that's 13.1 miles) in San Jose, California. She's in training for a full marathon in Phoenix this January. Completing these 13.1 miles--in less than 3 hours--was a major milestone in her progress toward that goal.

Sara walked at full speed and sweated it out for two hours and 57 minutes on the streets of San Jose. I had a different experience of the event. You see, I'm the one who carries cameras (two, for we had friends walking in the same race), water, and the expectation that he'll be on the course at a few different locations during the race to get action shots. My summary term for this job is "pack mule." Sure, it's more than that, but I get more sympathy if I compare myself to a beast of burden.

I really don't need the sympathy, though, because I too get something out of race day. As I walked a short-cut from mile 10.2 towards the finish line, I reflected on what I saw in Sara that day. She's been training since this time last year in order to complete these feats of pedestration. She routinely walks 4, 6, 8, and soon 12 miles a day, pounding the pavement and returning with aching muscles. Just fourteen months ago she suffered the horrendous effects of chemotherapy. Now she's an Energizer Bunny with sneakers. It's a stunning transformation, especially for a woman whose only athletic boast had been bowling in middle school.

As I watch from the sidelines, snap some photos, and check hydration levels I find myself overcome with pride. It's a strange sort of pride because strictly speaking I have no part in this fantastic blossoming of my wife. I just get to go along for the ride. But yet I feel pride, a sense of joy that says, "Look what the Lord has allowed me to be a part of!" or "Look at this amazing life with whom I am blessed to be intertwined!"

I marvel at the motivation, energy and persistance that I see in Sara. I also watch with joy her decision to use this awesome drive to raise money for charity. Perhaps many others will benefit from her ambulations. But even if she never gets her name on a hospital wing or never wins a gold medal in speed-walking, I will be just as proud.

And for that, I will gladly be the pack mule.

~emrys