Yesterday you ran (ie were pushed in your jogger) the Pirates 10km race, your fourth to date, strictly speaking. It was my last race I run when I was almost seven months’ pregnant, and you’ve done every Pirates race since then. It’s a tradition I love with you.
The first year, when you were almost ten months old was pretty easy – we were able to get a beanie on you (Pretty Much The Last Time Ever), and you observed your surroundings happily and slept towards the end.
Cue the next year and things were a little trickier. You got irritated by all the noise at the beginning, and at around 7km into the race, you wanted emancipation from your pram, and had to be carried on the run, until about 1km from the finish when you got back in.
Yesterday was awesome. You ran with your dad, and though I was planning to run with you and Nicki (who was running her first 10km), you only wanted daddy. But you loved it, and fortunately I get to train a bit and get fitter to take you on the next upcoming races. Pushing a jogger is not for sissies.
Yours in running
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