The Dick Beardsley half marathon was run yesterday in Detroit Lakes, Minnesota. My son Kevin participated, as he has for several years. I’ve cheered him on in person occasionally, but today wasn’t one of those times.
Instead, I was driving home from buying fresh corn when my cellphone rang. It was his area code but not his telephone number, and my car didn’t reveal the caller’s name. “Something is wrong” was my first reaction.
It was Lonna, his significant other of twenty years. “Did you see the race results?” she asked. I had tried, but the website wasn’t very informative; so I had no idea what to expect.
“He won!”
“Do you mean his age group?” I asked.
“No, I mean the race. He won the whole thing.”
Later I caught up with Kevin and got the details. How he led the whole 13.2 mile distance, finished in 1:20:19, went back onto the course to cheer slower runners (as is his tradition), met racecourse volunteers and the second and third place finishers.
“Mom, the second place man was a minute behind me. He was 35 years old. I met his dad too. And third place went to a 23-year old. It was just great to be there in the moment with them.” I wish I had been there too.
Kevin turns 56 in four days.
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