To me, my mom had always been more stubborn than any hill she was on.
Sometimes that hill was her childhood, or her present experiences, or a long run she “suggested “I go on with her. And while stubbornness is definitely part of it, it seemed more that the hill was
Conquerable
Surmountable
I've never seen her meet a climb she was worried about.
I've never seen her meet a climb she couldn’t finish.
And I still haven’t.
But I have seen the hill swallow her whole.
I was working/photographing one of her many races and the moment her age group was called. I ran to the water, placed my eye on her blue cap, and got ready to hold my shutter down.
She entered the water,
shaking.
This wasn’t normal.
40 minutes later, she emerged from the water. She reached for her zipper, simultaneously grabbing at her cap, as if one more step in either, and she might explode.
There was a disappointment in her eyes as she turned to me
“I could barely move, the anxiety, the water”
And for the next few races, it seemed that was all she could focus on: that happening again.
For the first time ever, I saw my mom in a light I didn’t know existed for her,
fear.
Two months later, she had a race in the city I was living, the exact same city of that first race.
She waited in the start line on the beach. Staring at the water.
There were hundreds of contestants around her, but I could spot her anywhere;
moving side to side, her hand twitching.
I yelled to her and she forced a smile.
The cannon fired and she ran straight to the water
-the hill-
When I lost sight of her, I ran to the transition station, my eyes scanning for the shortest person to come out of the water.
Right when I realized I was probably expecting her too soon I moved to a further but better place.
I looked up from my viewfinder. It was as if she knew exactly where to look. She threw her hands in the air and smiled a full, real smile
“ I did it, Punkin!”
With all my flabbers gasted, I fumbled my way to focusing my lens and pressing the shutter. She had been swallowed hole and climbed her way out.
In this moment, my mom was not an Iron Man, not an athlete, not a competitor.
She was human
With fears and anxiety
And she did something I didn’t know was possible
She out-stubborned
outclimbed herself.
