Project: Dabble

A Mother’s Day 5K became a lesson in courage, confidence and the joy of dabbling.

This past Mother’s Day, I did something I never thought I could do.

I ran my first 5K.

That was not the plan.

When I signed up for the Moms Rock 5K at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo with my teenage son, I fully intended to walk the course while he ran. My son runs track and cross country, so he knows his way around a race. I, on the other hand, am an avid walker who has never really enjoyed running. Walking clears my head and feels restorative. Running has always felt like a battle between my lungs, my legs and my willpower.

Still, the race sounded like a fun Mother’s Day adventure, something new we could try together.

When we arrived at the zoo at 7:30 a.m., hundreds of people were already gathered in their pink Moms Rock T-shirts. Some were stretching and warming up. Others were chatting with family members and taking photos by the starting line. My son and I pinned on our race bibs, each with a three-digit number and timing chip to record our finish time and place. This felt serious.

The morning began with the Sweetie Candy Dash for kids under 8, sponsored by a local wholesale candy company. The children were led through a group stretch that looked a bit like “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes.” Then the little runners wiggled into loose lines for their heats. There were preschoolers, toddlers and even a few babies carried down the 50-meter course by their parents. At the finish line, the children ran into huge hugs from proud families and collected bags of candy.

Then it was time for the 5K.

At the Starting Line

As we moved toward the starting line, I was struck by the range of people around us. There were experienced runners with racing watches and sleek running gear, casual walkers, parents pushing strollers and people of all ages and abilities. The whole event felt welcoming and encouraging.

My son wanted to line up near the front of the crowd with the serious runners. I knew slower runners and walkers like me belonged farther back. But the race was packed, and I felt like one of the mama zebras at the zoo, trying to keep her foal from getting swept up by the herd.

Being up front meant I now had to pretend that I belonged there. I decided I would run for the first quarter mile to avoid getting in anyone’s way.

That was my entire running plan.

As the countdown moved from five minutes to three minutes to one, the energy around us shifted. The chatter quieted. Runners leaned forward. The crowd seemed to gather itself.

And then we were off.

Finding My Stride

It was exhilarating to run in a huge pack. All I could hear were footsteps hitting the pavement and the rhythmic breathing of the runners around me. And something unexpected happened.

I wanted to keep going.

Running with a crowd, surrounded by so many people moving together, felt energizing. I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself. Instead of thinking about how much I usually dislike running, I focused on how strong I felt in that moment.

I told myself I would listen to my body and walk when I needed a break.

One mile went by, and I still felt good.

Then another mile passed, and I was still in my groove.

Faster and more experienced runners streamed past me like a herd of gazelles, swift and sure-footed. Instead of feeling intimidated, I felt inspired. Spectators along the course cheered us on. Usually, I’m the one cheering from the sidelines. But each wave, smile and “You’ve got this!” gave me a little more energy to keep going.

I kept paying attention to how I felt. When we reached one particularly gnarly hill, I decided to walk for a bit. Other runners were encouraging each other, calling out, “Keep it up!” and “There’s water at the top!” So I decided to give it a go and run the rest of the hill.

I took two more short walking breaks along the course, but by the final stretch, I was determined to cross the finish line running.

A Perfect Mother’s Day Gift

As I neared the end of the course, I could hear cheers rising from the finish line. Then I saw my son waiting for me among the spectators, watching for me to come around the final stretch.

I gave him a huge wave and called out, “I’m still running!”

His jaw dropped in surprise.

It was the perfect Mother’s Day gift to have my son cheering me on as I crossed the finish line in 34:42. We collected our completion medals and spent the rest of the morning exploring the zoo, still energized from the run and proud of what we had accomplished. 

Before we left, my son was already planning our next race. This time, a four-miler.

Stepping Outside My Comfort Zone

We could have slept in that morning. We could have stuck with our Mother’s Day tradition of making blueberry and cinnamon pancakes. But instead, we got up before the sun rose, put on our running shoes and tried something new together.

And that’s the joy of dabbling.

You begin with a simple willingness to try. You step outside your comfort zone. You let go of the story you have been telling yourself about what you can and cannot do. And sometimes, somewhere between the starting line and the finish line, you discover a new capability inside yourself.

“That was way more fun than brunch,” I said to my son on the ride home.

“Yeah,” he said proudly. “Hardcore moms run 5Ks.”