An alternate title for this post was "My Sister is a Bad-Ass."
Because I was so proud of her.
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The Disney marathon attracts a specific type of person, a specific type of runner. Many of the runners are either a) first time marathoners, b) Disney fanatics, and/or c) Brazilian. (On note C: I think every few minutes someone came across the finish line carrying the Brazilian flag. By the end, the MCs decided the Brazilian flag needed to be added to the official Run Disney wall. And no joke, those people are nuts. The winner this year is an eight-time champion and has the seven Mickey Mouse heads tattooed to his arm as proof.)
Let me start by confessing something: I was a total crank about Disney in the months leading up to the race. I found the website to be incredibly confusing and was a bit taken aback by the cost of everything. However, when it came to the weekend, I was incredibly impressed with the friendliness and courteousness that all runners, spectators, and staff showed everyone around them; while time had to be allotted for transportation, everything ran smoothly and we got from point A to point B with no problems; and while expensive, at the end of the day, I didn't have to think much about anything. Above all, though, never have I seen such a group of people be so supportive of each other. "Congratulations!" and "Good luck!" peppered every audible conversation.
I can see why so many people return.
Emily decided to run this race a full year prior to the event. In the months leading up to the race, she trained hard, running multiple races and inspiring a lot of her friends to tackle their own endeavors along the way.
When race day came, she was ready. Unbelievably, she was ready to get up at 3 am.
She, her boyfriend's mother Karen, and boyfriend's brother's girlfriend Carly all got up in the middle of night to allow for transportation to the race, which started at 5:30 am.
25,000 other people did the same thing.
I have no idea how many thousands more got up - like myself, my sister Colleen, my mother Janet, and the boyfriends Joel and Dave - at 4 am to ensure we could hoof it to the Magic Kingdom to see our runners go through the castle.
It was rather beautiful. Even for a cynic like me.
The hours between 7:00 and 10:00 are a blur of reading, watching the live results, and eating back at base camp, waiting for our runners to come in.
We took up our seats in the grandstand to wait to spot our ladies.
Waited rather anxiously, actually.
You see, Emily is like me - fair-skinned and sensitive to the heat. Couple that with the fact that she lives in and had been training in Chicago's fall and winter weather and you can imagine how nervous she (and we all) were when the forecasted temperatures were going to soar well above the normal temperatures of Orlando in January and the comfortable zone for marathon running, period.
Sitting there in the grandstand, feeling my face and arms begin to burn, I couldn't help but think about Emily, wonder what mile she had crossed, wonder how she was feeling, wonder if she had run smack into The Wall or if she was still smiling.
After watching Carly and Karen cross the finish line, we waited for Emily. After a while, I couldn't stay in the stands and I made my way down to the barricade.
I scanned the faces as they ran by - a bearded Snow White, girl Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dums - and found myself fighting back tears.
I realized that when I did see Emily, she was mere yards from crossing a finish line that signaled 26.2 miles of running. There are many times a big sister looks at her little sister with pride when she accomplishes something that you have already done.
It's an entirely different experience when you watch her tackle something you've been too scared and too undisciplined to do. The level of pride and joy nearly bursts your heart.
When Emily did come cruising in, she was smiling, ear to ear.
She played it smart, ran a good race, and had a magical time.
And it was downright magical to be there for her, too.
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