So while I was stoked to still be standing upright, Amy cried actual tears over me not winning the Auckland half marathon on Sunday. The fact that I was never, ever going to come even remotely close to winning, and my (fleeting) joy at improving on last year’s time meant nothing to her.

I gave her my participant’s medal as a jollying-up tactic, but she held it sadly and asked, “well who DID win?”
I invented a quick story about a runner named Jonathan winning, who’d run lots of races (because I DON’T KNOW).
She thought about it for a while, then morosely looked out the window and muttered, “well, I hope Jonathan got an actual trophy, and not just the same medal that you and all the other people who didn’t win got given”.

Gee thanks, “Jonathan”, and the thousands of other runners who drank less wine, trained harder and ran faster…thus causing me to bring non-winning shame upon my family.

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