The Starting Line.

Via laurenledbetter

During high school, I ran cross country and track. By far the worst part of the entire race was waiting at the starting line. I hated it. I would be dripping with anticipation and shaking as I waited for the gun to go off. It was not uncommon for my teammates to ask if I was OK, or if I needed to go throw up and I would have to assure them, with a face stark-white, that I was perfectly fine. It was a complete relief to be starting the race and getting down to the business of running.

It is the same stomach-churning, shakey-limb feeling Brandon and I have been experiencing for the past few weeks. Between coming to the end of my pregnancy and the prospect of a new job in a new city for Brandon, we have been sitting in anticipation for our new lives to start. 

There have been moments where neither of us need to say what we are thinking, when is the gun finally going to fire? There are no words, we just silently watch my belly, squirming with life beneath it, and the phone, occasionally ringing with concerned family members wondering if we have heard anything. And just when we think cannot take the uncertainty and unknown anymore, we are asked to wait a little while longer. 

Despite the anticipation, the fear, the unknown, I cannot help but think that maybe this waiting is for the best. The worst I felt at the starting line, the bigger the relief when I finally could stretch out my legs and run. When the time comes, the direction laid out and the race has started we will finally be able to stretch ourselves and feel the relief of running towards our life together. Soon, I will be able to run the race as a mother and together we can build our lives either in Riverside or Sacramento. 

It seems like an eternity before the gun is shot, but looking back it was only a precious few seconds. Right now this weekend may feel like an age-long minute, but I am trying to take this time to take a breath, get into position and get ready to run.