J was not born a runner. Em knows this well. How could a mom who struggled to finish 800 meters in tears at her high school expect her daughter to be a runner? She recalled clearly those early days when she sent her to a community’s soccer camp. J was about seven- or eight-year old, playing soccer with the kids of her age. In a match that J played, after one session of chasing the ball, when the coach asked the team if anyone needed backup, she would see J’s little hand raised highly in the air, her face in white and red from running.
“Like Mother like daughter” was Em’s conclusion.
Fast forward twenty years. J blossomed into a career girl living in a different city. She picked up running as a pastime to release her stress. But as J’s body weight kept rising, so did Em’s doubt. “She said she was running. But how serious? ”
Not until this Christmas when J proudly told them that she had registered for the local 10K race in a nearby beach city.
December 29 was a gloomy Sunday. The sky was overcast and drizzling when they reached the destination around 8:15 a.m. The track was sprawling by the sea, separated by sand dunes on one side. Under the gray sky, the sea looked cold and colorless. J rushed out of the car in her short-sleeved running shirt and shorts, towards the gathering crowd.
It took Em and her husband more than 25 minutes to get in the parking lot ($15 fee) and parked the car. They walked briskly in the crisp air, searching J in the crowd that may have more than 1000 participants including 5K and half marathon runners. Em in her thick jacket still felt the chill from the unwelcoming sea, and couldn’t help wondering if J was shivering without a single jacket.
J was fine and was looking at her cell phone calmly . Five minutes from the start, music came out. Three black singers began to sing on a make-shift stage by the side of entrance. The song accompanied by drums and guitars was merrily upbeat, adding some warm sentiment to the vibe. “Let’s move, move, move…” said the lyrics. Runners started wiggling and moving to the beat, hooraying as they passed by the stage.
J soon disappeared and was nowhere to be seen. Em and her husband sauntered around in the area aimlessly, but were happy after an hour to see a triumphantly smiling face emerging in the throng, sprinting toward the finish line. J made it, though the score might not be comparable with fast runners, it was her personal record.
