Hurdles, Perseverance and Gratitude: San Carlos Women Warriors Complete 'Urbanathon'

[Editor's note: Thank you to San Carlos resident Aimee Lewis Strain for sharing this blog originally posted on the Action Alliance for Children's Children's Advocate, newsletter.]

By Aimee Lewis Strain

I have written for years about my kids and of motherhood. I have written about the highs and the lows of being a mom. Of how some situations have made me cry, made me laugh, brought me to my low, up north to elation and later made me sweat. All of these noted experiences were somewhat anticipated by many mothers before me. We all experience these joys, goof-ups and pains – it comes with the territory.

But last weekend, one of my most treasured mom experiences occurred… and it wasn’t anticipated, not something someone might have been able to predict, and it had nothing to do with my children.

Along with 17 other local moms, I ran a gnarly race, one I didn’t think I would be able to complete.

Months ago, we set about training for the San Francisco 2013 Men’s Health Urbanathon – a phrase that took as much practice to say as it did to train for. My close friend asked me to join a group of determined friends to run an 11.2-mile course with 10 obstacles along the way. I agreed, and immediately felt uneasy with my acceptance. In fact, I awoke the day after signing up with a feeling of extreme remorse – what had I done?

But I persevered, attempting to begin with a short run of a few miles, followed by a few more, all along recognizing that although I love an athletic challenge – this would be it!

Nov. 24 came before I knew it, but a little later than I’d hoped. After run upon run and chance meetings and email exchanges with the San Carlos Urbanathalon Team of 17, I did not feel ready. I have never been a runner, let alone one that could accomplish more than 11 miles, hopping buses, taxicabs, hurtles, high fences, Telegraph Hill, zig-zagging steep Coit Tower and a lengthy stair climb at AT&T Park.

The night before the race, we all stayed at the iconic Clift Hotel. We ate at Bocci in North Beach, carbo-loading and limiting our intake of anything but water. We were out of dinner by 9:30 p.m. – an early time that indicated that our crew was serious. The first of my many stomach churns began at that point.

Ready for bed at 10 p.m.  but not asleep before 2 a.m., my nerves got the best of me. My body was resting but my mind was racing. How would I be able to complete this immense challenge? The only experience on my runner’s resume was the 2002 San Francisco Bay to Breakers, and now at 38, my foggy memory couldn’t recall if I ran that race in search of the next beer float or for the finish line…

But I was committed. It felt like only minutes before my alarm rang its death tone. The time was 5 a.m. We were scheduled to meet at 5:45 a.m. in the lobby for coffee. We rallied, ate what we thought would sustain us – a banana here, protein bar there, a spoonful of almond butter.

We hit the start line, Wave 4. With nervous energy, our group huddled, to some extent because it was cold and mostly because we were in this to finish – together.

We rallied, all of us clad in our planned hot pink randomness, ready to do what we all felt was insurmountable. My friend muttered to me that she felt as though we were about to enter the Hunger Games, and I shuttered realizing that I could very well be swallowed by defeat.

We counted down from 10 to start and hit the pavement, a sea of pink galloping forward, not knowing what challenges lie ahead.

And it was during this first leg that I felt it. The quintessential moment that made me a new-age mom. I was accomplishing a goal that was not expected of me. This was for me. I would be racing against my own mind. Pushing my limits, jarring my comfort zone and working hard to accomplish something for me. Autonomy felt unusual.

Up until now, the goals and accomplishments I have achieved have been those expected of me, and simply anticipated along my own “life path.” High school, college, first job, coveted career, marriage, first home, second home, babies 1-2-3 … all of which took dedication and were hard to meet. But these all seemed commonplace among my peers and my own life map.  And once my children were born, most of the goals I had set for myself included them.  I had stepped out of the box with this one.

Our huddle of pink started running together and not realizing how soon the first obstacle would strike. We all hit the first five miles in stride, no panting, ready and waiting for what was next. The group seemed to break up into equal groups of four or five and as we would pass one another bestowing a high-five here and a whoot-whoot there, all which seemed to encourage us to tackle the next mile.

Knees aching, hips popping and emotions flowing, we all made it to the finish line. With many words of inspiration along the way, we all hurled our bodies over the caged school bus and 10-foot fence that precluded us from the bright yellow inflatable finish line.

It took a little over two hours, and more than two days worth of stress and nerves, but we all made it. The cloud of accomplishment lingered over us all. Smiles abound, hugs plentiful and an unspoken air of gratitude permeated our winner’s circle. Many of our husbands and children, even parents, greeted us at the end. With pretzels, protein bars and Gatorade, we smiled proudly for our pink after-shot. 

As I enter the week of Thanksgiving and with this great accomplishment behind me, I reflect on what I am grateful for. And at the top of this year’s list, among my healthy and happy family, is a great group of ladies, clad in hot pink that set out to accomplish something for themselves -- something that makes us who we are and better for it. Good friends, good sports and good moms who realize that it’s important to take time to for ourselves; to try something new and to have the glory to do it with grace.