Who turned on the water works??

I'll write more about the awesomeness that was my first half marathon (13.1 miles of jogging / walking that took me past the capitol, through beautiful neighborhoods, and up and down some crazy hills) later, but first I wanted to share an incident from around mile 6 this morning that made me realize that no matter how much I may look like I've got it all together on the outside, on the inside I just miss my husband more than I can put into words.

I thought I was doing so well since I got back from our beach vacation. There had been very few (if any) tears since I got back and I was holding things together pretty well and really trying to just enjoy my time at home right now, knowing that I'll be with Davie again soon (26 days!) and he'll be home before we know it. I was proud of how well I seemed to be doing.

All that came crashing down this morning with two little words.

To preface, I will say that I got up at 4:30 this morning after a very full week, a late night Friday, and a crazy day Saturday. To say I was tired would be an understatement. I was also in the middle of tackling a huge challenge, one I never thought I would accomplish before two months ago, and one I was still very nervous about. So I was emotional to begin with, and very tired, which just makes my emotional status even higher.

And then the lady I was walking with, who was soooooo nice and did a perfect pace for my first half, turned to her friend who was with us and asked "Do you think our boys will be at the finish line?"

And I was immediately reminded how much I wanted MY boys to be waiting there for me with big smiles and proud faces and huge hugs. Or, even better, how much I wished Davie could have been doing the half WITH me. He has been such a great supporter through all of this and was amazing to workout with last year. When we talk about my work outs now, he likes to tell me that I'm strong and I can do anything I put my mind too. I tell him he makes me strong and I can do so much more with him.

Needless to say, my friend took one look at my face and thought I must have injured myself. (Which wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibilities.) And instead I had to tell them that I'm pretty much just a walking mess these days and not to mind me. :)

I try so hard to be strong. I want to be strong for Davie, who is bored out of his mind and out of his comfort zone after spending so many years in the US, and I want to be strong for Eduardo, who will be coming home with us soon and is still trying to get to know his dad and I, and I want to be strong for myself, because I hate being the one everyone expects to be a puddle of crying goo on the floor. But sometimes I'm just not able to do it. Sometimes this whole process is just too overwhelming, too suffocating to be able to believe I'll make it through.

But just like I did today on the half marathon route, all I can do is mentally pick myself up and keep going. Because, eventually, putting one foot in front of the other, over and over, will get us where we need to go and where we so desperately want to be. And, maybe, hopefully, if we're lucky, Davie can be on that course with me next year, with Eduardo on the sidewalks cheering us on (with a friend/family member of course - I may not know much about parenting, but I know a 6 year old can't be left alone for a half marathon 😝), and we can run through the finish line together, knowing we've accomplished more than one thing that most people would find impossible.