Our steps match.
His legs slow in the same way mine quicken. Our shadows are an elongated, tilted, fuzzy version of the Us that we’ve grown so very accustomed to in the decade we’ve shared.
The sun glints in slices against pebbled earth. He doesn’t notice.
The crowd, the mountains, the big orange mud slide that looms to the left are what hold his gaze.
My heart beats and tightens and quickens. But with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, I’m unsure how he feels. This unanswered question is, in this case, the more important one.
Jason ran his first 5k on Saturday. It was a golden day encased in beating sunshine and mediocre beer and the kind of bands that this mama of three rarely listens to anymore.
It was perfect.
When he finished – a bit worn and scuffed and scraped after that big orange mud slide and an electric fence (!) and zombie chases – because, “A regular 5k might be kind of boring” – he was so very proud.
This I could see, in his stance and his smile and his immediate, “Next year, for sures.” But really, I felt it.
Deep inside my core in the space that has melded between us, threaded by marriage and children and jobs and moves and free flowing tears and belly laughs, I felt his pride as if it was my own.
Because when we stretch as far as we can, our happy Glows for others to see and feel and sometimes, even touch, doesn’t it?
I’m swimming with Brody.
The water glistens warm against both of our skin, his vanilla startling against my coffee.
His arms wrap around my neck. And really, that’s a generous way of putting it. “Clench” is more like it.
“I can’t, mommy!” He says. His fear chiseling my heart.
I pry his fingers “loose” one by one. They’re small, fragile even, but his grip is tight, strong, fierce. I feel the trail of red marks he’s left behind. They’re embedded rake-like beneath those chisels.
We’re tangled an arm’s length away from the edge. ”You can do it, buddy.” I murmur in his ear. “I know you can.”
His grip tightens again. This time he uses his fingers and arms and legs and face and even the most delicious of bellies. “We’re so close – look!” I add, lazily motioning with my arm. My fingertips graze the side. He doesn’t notice.
This stretch feels too far and too big and too much right now.
I note my pink tipped toes edged in the water’s clear turquoise and waver between being his safe place and his push.
I want to be both.
They clink their red Solos towards the sun. Amber beer sloshes at the sides. They could care less.
We settle on the browned grass together.
They are a mess of scrapes and mud and bare feet. But their smiles. Oh my, I’d take a few more of those to tuck away for a darker day.
“You’ll probably want to do this next year!” Jason’s friend says to me.
And we laugh. It’s the good kind of laugh – warm and rich and tired and stranded in the way that Jason’s and my shared space is, just looser and with less pieces to hold it together.
This stretch, isn’t mine. But this feeling, so is.
There’s a space between too much and just right that feels uncomfortable, scary even.
And that’s where I want to be, what I want to show to my children, and whisper to them at just the right time. This space? Is golden. Go for it.
(Maybe without zombies, though!)
I love this. It is so sweet! Yes, when we are that close to someone – we feel the stretch with them… the pride, the joy with them. And I love it. I love your words. Poetry in Motion.
I usually don’t leave just one word comments but “cool”.
Hey, I guess that wasn’t a one-word comment after-all!
m.
Perfection my friend. xo
I want to etch this into my brain—> “Because when we stretch as far as we can, our happy Glows for others to see and feel and sometimes, even touch, doesn’t it?”
Such powerful words Galit… as always.
OH Galit, when can I hug you??? When can I stand in your aura and just take it in and be glad that our paths crossed? Your words are always beautiful, but for some reason this piece took my breath away, and tears are streaming down my cheeks.
“his safe place and his push” was eloquent and just what I needed today. Thank you for sharing your words, they change my life every single day. xo
You two together … it would be the perfect ‘sandwich’ in a non sexy skanky way but oh to soak in your words, your warmth and wonder …. I glow inside at the very idea of such a possibility
You mezmorize me with your descriptions. Felt like I was right there with you. So beautiful. And how much fun!!! xo
Oh, to live in that space! You’ve described it beautifully, the place outside of our safety zone where the magical can happen with the cozy landing of those we love just in the periphery of our reach. LOVE this, dear.
This really tugged at my heart. I know what you mean! There is nothing quite like it, such deep joy and exhilaration and a little bit of fear at the same time.
How lucky and happy to be able to experience that!
When we push ourselves out of our comfort zone to try something new it is so much better when someone we love is there to share it with. How wonderfully supportive you are. And your write up, as always, makes me feel your pride.
You can make even a zombie run beautiful, Galit. Love you.
And boy, can I relate to all of your feelings here, with both of your guys.
This post? Just what I needed to read today. I need to push myself out of my comfort zone to get a few things accomplished physically. I love that your family did just that. What a fun zombie race! I really want to do a mud-type of race later this summer. So fun and different!
I loved Run for your Lives . . . a very unique race. Wonderful that it was Jason’s first.
And now I’m looking at the picture of your family that you have, wondering if a zombie or two is hieing behind a tree….
Now that’s a 5K I might be willing to train for!!! We all need to be better prepared for the Zombie apocalypse!
I understand every single one of these feelings.
In my bones.
(And maybe a few blisters.)
We all need to be pushed at times whether we think we do or not.
I would never have thought a 5k would be possible for me and would have thought anyone doing it would be crazy unless I`d done one myself.
I have to agree that a zombie one looks a lot more fun
Such a great post I love how you describe the bond between husband and wife.
You couldn’t have captured both of this special moments with better words or love. And I couldn’t agree more…NO ZOMBIES!!! xo
You always manage to capture the situation with all the emotions. I feel like I was with you.
His first 5K certainly won’t be his last, they are ADDICTING!! Babe did a warrior dash recently that seems similar… when they finished he got a plush viking helmet to wear and a giant drumstick to eat like a man of the dark ages. Hysterical!
Also, I know that feeling you had/have. The exact one. I cry each time he crosses the finish line. It never gets old for either of us!
That pride that we have in our husbands, our kids, ourselves, when we’ve stretched? That is priceless.
You always write so terribly beautifully. And now I want a zombie to chase me.
OMG! This is amazing! Galit, I think we’re slightly twins here. I’m hoping to do an amazing run like this someday. I want the color run – but this one sounds awesome, too.
Congrats to him and to you! For being so inspired and feeling that feeling! Woo hoo!
Isn’t it wonderful and amazing how life pulls and stretches us in so many ways? I love learning new things and growing. It’s hard sometimes, but always worth it in the end. Your words are just beautiful.
I think I’m going to need to invest in a thesaurus to find new ways to tell you how beautiful your words are.
Also, a 5k with zombies? Sounds amazing.
…goosebumps.
Great job to your husband!! I’ve never done a mud/zombie chasing run before. I could totally do the zombies, it’s the mud I’m not so sure of
Love the line “his vanilla to my coffee”…perfect.
xo
Oh, the stretch. And the glow. I know this.
So poetic and beautiful.
I love the beautiful harmony you and your hubby have formed over the years, and that you understand those silent spaces and nuances and that you are able to communicate with feeling rather than words. What a wonderful blessing that is.
And I’m impressed with the zombie run. Sounds like a great time (but I’d rather watch from the sidelines, too).
Sheer beauty and love … in each delicious word xxxx
Some days I want to be you and see such possibility in the world. xo
Ahhh…I love this description of what I feel when my sons score a touchdown or my daughter does her back flip or when they run home to show me a good grade or even when my toddler answers someone’s question. The stretch…of joy, of pride…it makes me feel warm all over. Beautifully written, Galit.
I love that you were there for his stretch. It was his and yet you could feel it too. Very cool! I’ve never fun a 5K but would consider it if there was a theme like Fall Colors or something. Not Zombies though!
So very sweet!
What an awesome tribute to your husband. And what a neat thing he did! fun. I love how you showed the two stretches – one just right and one too much for now. You’re so right – such is life – finding that sweet spot between those two.
Love.
So true that stretches sometimes feel glorious and sometimes are a bit painful. Loved how you described the situations.
Ah yes, Stretching… the ever present demand from the Universe. Lovely.
Cheers!
I love it. And my husband is totally jealous. He’s being wanting to do a Tough Mudder, and I keep telling him no way….
Just fantastic — the way your described the feeling of the heart stretch. And congrats on your family’s first Tough Mudder
I love this, all of it. You’ve captured so much with your words as usual
but truly my breath caught in my throat as I read this. That stretch, that place and that connection – amazing. Congrats to your husband on his mud run!! I really want to do one.
Wow.
(Do I say that a lot each time I visit your blog? I feel like I do).
ahhh, the stretch. it is foreign to me. i’m terrible at it. i’m stuck instead. i’m averse to the shifting, changing, growing. it unsettles me. i can’t let go.
another beautiful post. i’ve been away for too long. i’m sorry.
are u going to BlogHer, Galit?
Wonderful post! I can feel the love just like I could see the mud!
Oh my gosh this is so beautiful Galit. It’s such a balance isn’t? Holding onto our children but givinh them the courage to let go.
The stories of your family are always so beautiful. You described your emotions and happiness toward both of your boys perfectly.
Ah, a good metaphor for many of the moment in our life. Great pics as usual too!
It’s lovely when our partners get to have “their moments” and we feel their joy and it makes us proud too. Lovely post, very poetic.