Personal Triumph Trumps Personal Best

Having had big sisters and being a big sister, I know first hand that big sisters aren't always the kindest or most supportive. They can be, but they can also be pinching, hair pulling, yelling, attitude-filled bullies.

My oldest, 10, is no exception. Being the first born she has decided it is her job to boss around her younger siblings and throw major tantrums when she is told it is not her place.

On Sunday, Pittsburgh had it's 35th Great Race. The Great Race is a family tradition for the Wolf clan. In my family, you run your first Great Race when you are 6 (if you want to). This was Presley's fifth Great Race, and her little brother, Nolan's, first.

As much as I had hoped to be able to run it with them, I had to make the decision that at 32 weeks pregnant it wasn't the best move for me or "Lil Boo." I asked a few people, but they weren't able to be running buddies with the kids, so my non-runner husband stepped up to the plate.

Presley is quite the little runner, and was entering the race seeded for the second time. She earned this honor by finishing second in her age group last year. We have a deal every year that if she gets a personal record she can pick out a stuffed animal as a reward. (Actually, this year she attempted to up the ante to a cell phone or Kindle Fire, but Mommy shut that down pretty fast.)

With tears in my eyes I got the kids all dressed in their pink "Pancreas Racing" shirts and pinned their race bibs on. After a couple of quick pictures I kissed them goodbye and promised to meet them at the finish. I couldn't believe I was missing the race with them.

I took the other 2 kids and we headed downtown to the finish line. I am proud to say I navigated my way through town, closed roads and all, found a parking spot and still got to the finish early. We secured a cheering section near the finish and waited for Presley. I watched the clock, waiting for 52:00, her goal time, to come along. It came, and went...53, 54, 55...I was getting so nervous.

Before I knew it the clock read an hour and still no Presley. PANIC! Was she ok? Did something happen? Finally, at 1:04, she crossed the finish. I tried to find her, but she broke plan and came to where she saw me standing. Eventually we found each other and by then she had her brother with her.

As it turns out, the kids lost their dad in the first mile. (It just so happens to be the same spot where we lose my dad every year.) Presley didn't want Nolan to have to do his first Great Race alone, so she stayed with him. She taught him our "smash the cup" game at every water station, she showed him "rainbow hill" where we like to see all the different color t-shirts as we run, she even gave him "boosts" where I grab her hand and pull her up to give her momentum.

She did all of this knowing she could not place or get her goal time. She knew that cute little Small Fry at Build-a-Bear would not be hers again this year. But she also knew that the Great Race is special not because so many people do it, but because she has done it with her mother and created all these great memories. She wanted to make sure Nolan had the same kind of Great Race she has always gotten.

She did eventually pull ahead of him around mile 5, but she knew at that point her goal time was out of reach.

I am so proud of her. I am sure today when she gets home from school and he is on the chair she wants she will yell at him and throw some elbows. The 6.2 miles didn't suddenly improve her contrary disposition. It did in that moment, though, give me a peak at the person she is growing up to be.

(And for the record, I thought she more than earned that stuffed animal! We made a mall trip yesterday!)