What the Peachtree Road Race Means to Me

 
I grew up watching the Peachtree Road Race from the sidewalk just down from the Burger King and just up from Peachtree-Battle Shopping Center. Each year I would strain and stretch trying to get a good look at each and every runner that went by…waiting…waiting…waiting…and then there he’d be, running out of the crowd of runners, hopping up on the sidewalk, pulling us in for a big hug, and then he’d be gone; absorbed back into the sea of humanity that makes the Peachtree Road Race the largest 10K in the World.

Every July 4^th, my mom, my stepdad, my sister and I would get up super early and pack into the car, make the 2-mile drive to Peachtree Battle, and carry chairs and water to “our spot” and wait. First, the wheelchair racers would speed by, hoping to gain plenty of momentum to ease their impending push up Heartbreak Hill. Next, would be the elite runners with their elegant gaits and then…the Masses. Hundreds and thousands of runners passing by. But I was always only looking for one.


My parents got divorced when I was four. My mom remarried and we moved to Atlanta when I was eight. My sister and I spent every other weekend with my dad and stepmom – and that worked out pretty well until I got into Junior High and started being more social. I began to dislike the fact that I had to go to my dad’s house when there was a school dance or a popular-girl sleepover or a party…with boys! Eventually, we moved into a habit of going to my dad’s whenever it “fit in” with our schedules. Weeks became months. Pretty soon, it was maybe 3-4 times a year, which, not surprisingly, caused a big hole in our relationship.

I grew up…a little. I went to college.  I got married. My dad and I stayed in touch, but the visits were few and far between. We always knew, however, that we’d see each other once a year. For a quick hug on the sidewalk of Peachtree Road on July 4^th.

In 1999, I decided that would be my last year as an observer of the Peachtree Road Race and I became a Runner.


My first Peachtree Road Race bib!!

2000

2001

A new July 4^th tradition started. My dad would drive to Atlanta from Covington and pick me up in what seemed like the middle of the night. We’d drive over to Lenox Mall and get parked before the streets closed, get our Marta tokens and wait to run. I’d like to tell you that we ran the Peachtree together, but he was fast and I was really slow. He’d be in a starting wave right up front, whereas, some years I had to wait 30-45 minutes before I even crossed the Start Line. He’d be done, waiting at the Finish Line and I was just getting through my first mile. But, he’d always wait for me so that we could make the “Death March”, as we called it, to the Marta station to get back to the car at Lenox. He’d drop me back off at the house I grew up in with words about “next year” and a “see ya soon” and “love you”.

And then it happened. I decided to divorce my husband.

For reasons of my own, I needed to have the conversation we’d never had with my dad. I wrote him a letter and told him we needed to talk. He showed up at my door the next day.

I asked him tell his side of the story from beginning to end.  I asked hard questions and he gave hard answers. And perhaps it was my life experience, my new-found perspective. Or perhaps it was his humility, his honesty. Whatever it was, we met in the middle and we’ve not looked back.

My boys watching the runners go by!

These days, my dad and I make sure we renew our Atlanta Track Club memberships every year to guarantee our acceptance into the Peachtree Road Race. I’ve gotten remarried, so we both get hotel rooms at the Start line, go out to eat the night before with my stepmom, my husband, and our two boys. It’s a tradition that’s just one of the many times we see each other throughout the year. I’ve gotten serious about running and have moved up in the start waves of the Peachtree, but we’ve yet to start together.

This year should be that year. I put in the hard work to get faster and have qualified to be in the same start wave as my dad for the 2014 Peachtree Road Race. Finally. 

2014 Peachtree Road Race bib

Perhaps it’s that I’m getting faster at my age. Or perhaps it’s that he’s getting slower at his age. Whatever it is, we’ve met in the middle and we’re good with that!

2013 Peachtree Road Race