Last weekend my family and I had a very special weekend.  My husband, Eric, has been training for a number of triathalons and 1/2 marathons this year, and last weekend was the first race.

Eric signed up for the Ottawa 1/2 Marathon and, after talking to the kids, signed our 9 yr old son up for the 2K race and our 15 yr old daughter up for the 5K.  Our other daughter and I decided to be cheerleaders.

I have been to many races over the past 8 years and have done a few of my own.  There is something that really struck me about what I witnessed last weekend that I thought was 'blog' worthy.

What struck me was how inspirational the whole experience is.  Not the running...the WATCHING. Eric joined our son, Owen, in his 2K on Sat night since it was his first race.  They had a great time and finished in just over 12 minutes.  There were 4,000 people in that race and it was wonderful to see so many young people involved. 

Our daughter, Katie, has done a few races and one mini triathalon. She trained really hard for this 5K and wanted to beat a certain time. She was one of 8,000 runners and beat the time she hoped to run. I enjoyed standing on the side lines cheering everyone on. Then I noticed two men running with their arms touching.  At first I was puzzled as to why one man would allow the other to run so closely beside him. Then it hit me...one of the men was blind.  Tears came to my eyes and I was pleased to hear that the roar of cheers and clapping increased as the men got closer to the finish line!

The next morning was Eric's turn.  Because of the fact that there would be 10,000 participants in his race, and knowing how crazy the area was Sat night when there were fewer people, we decided that I would simply drop him off at the race site and then pick him up outside the race area when I received my text that he had crossed the finish line. That wasn't the way I wanted to do it, but it would make it easier for the kids.

So, on Sunday morning I dropped him off and wished him luck.  I went back to our hotel room and woke the kids for breakfast.  When I told them there would be time for a swim before we picked Dad up after the race, they all told me how much they wanted to see their Dad cross the finish line.  Well, OK then.  Let the craziness begin!

We made our way through the crowds and managed to find a place to sit in the stands so that we could take some pictures as Eric passed by.  We were just a few yards from the finish line and we got there in plenty of time in case he was faster than we anticipated!

We watched the sea of men and women participating in both the Full and Half Marathons run past us and I was absolutely amazed by what I saw.  I saw a man receive help from three other runners to cross the finish line. This man was weaving and unsteady and surely would have fallen without the selfless assistance of the others. I saw men with a sudden burst of energy start to sprint as they neared the finish line. Others raised their arms and yelled encouragement to the crowd to clap even harder.   Some of these people had been running for 4 hours!

Then I saw a husband and wife running hand in hand...and they raised their arms as they passed us. I saw a man in a wheelchair being pushed by another man!  I saw elderly people and young people.  I saw people finish with relative ease and I saw people struggle.

I walked away from that race with a profound feeling of joy. Not only did my children get to see their father finish his half-marathon in just under 2 hours, they witnessed great human strength.

My prevailing thought was, if ever you are feeling sorry for yourself or bored or lost, go and park yourself at the finish line of a race. It doesn't have to be a long race, though marathons and triathalons bring out a certain kind of person. It just has to be a race. I would challenge you to not be moved by what you see. 

 The experience changed me and I look forward to watching many more this summer.