Dateline: still above my garage, Portsmouth RI, 22 September 2004

So I lied, sort of . . .

Got in late last night from San Diego, so took off a little early from work today to catch Em run a race up in Portsmouth--Catholic schools mini-cross country race at RI School for Deaf. Tough enough little course at almost two miles.

Anyway, she runs hard, not spectacular, but hard. On one stretch where they're on the far side of the school and out of sight, she stops and walks for a bit. She seems to be having a bit of an allergic reaction to the pollen and working her lungs so much (something we fear a bit due to the radiation way back when). So she's a bit pink in face (almost 80 today here) and a slight wheeze (meaning we should probably do some Albuterol preemptively before races in the afternoon like that).

Em seems a bit panicked when I try to urge her on as she's coming around this school. So I tell her to do what she can and not to worry, she looks good running (she's really a natural mid-distance runner--like 400 or 800). So as Em's rounds the second-to-last curve and feels the edge pick up a bit as runners sense the last leg unfolding, she plusses up her speed about four fold, passes a good dozen runners, fades a bit, gets passed by a much larger girl who has all her friends yelling her on, and then passes her back just before the finish line (those friends were really pissing her off with their comments, Em said later).

And all I could think was how amazingly happy I was that she was still alive, ten years after diagnosis, finishing an almost two-mile race.

That child gives me a lot of strength.