we ran a 10k on family vacation.

I’ve been a runner for most of my life, loving the rhythm and adrenaline of it, but had never run an official race until a month ago.

We go on a family vacation once a year—my parents, my sister with her husband and two kids, and me with Adam.

After my sister ran a half-marathon, she proposed that it would be fun to run a race as a family.

We grew up in a household where our parents consistently rose before the sun to go out walking, running, exercising. This modeling integrated into our bones and stuck with both of us into our adult lives, always prioritizing movement.

I love to dance, do yoga, take barre classes, walk, jump on the trampoline, hike in the woods, run on the treadmill until my legs wobble. Movement is my favorite hobby.

But it’s always been that—a hobby. I never ran track, I never ran for sport. I do it simply because I love it. I’m happier running.

So I said yes to her idea because it sounded genuinely fun to run alongside my people. It sounded like the most Zanosky thing we could possibly do.

My dad agreed, his new bionic hip in full action after surgery a few years ago.

Adam agreed, my sister’s husband agreed. (How lucky are we that we chose partners that would say yes to running 6.2 miles on a family vacation?)

My mom agreed to cheer from the sidelines with the two- and three-year-old.

We decided to return to the Jersey Shore for our vacation gathering, the place of our childhood summers. My sister found a local 10K that was part of the 44th Annual Brielle Day.

We booked it.

---

I set zero expectations for myself. I didn’t want to over-think it, I barely wanted to train. I usually run three to four miles, three times a week, and figured that running at Colorado altitude would more than prepare me for running in New Jersey. We were warned that the course was difficult and hilly, making it hard to run at a consistent pace.

That was fine, because in my head, we were doing this for fun—not to win a medal or get our most impressive times.

But it became clear that I wasn’t on the same page as everyone. I’d get calls from my dad as he talked about how disappointed he was in his mile-by-mile time, somehow still expecting himself to run at his thirty-year-old pace. Adam would come home from the gym and tell me that he wanted his seventeen-year-old body back.

I largely rolled my eyes at them. “Y’all are nuts, why don’t we just enjoy this?”

---

I think somewhere, deep down, I couldn’t set expectations for myself. I grew up with chronic asthma and sometimes couldn’t even finish the mile run in gym without breaking into an asthma attack. When I was little, I wasn’t allowed to play outdoor soccer because the environmental allergens could risk triggering my asthma. There are some days when I try to run and my chest is too tight to do anything but walk.

I am grateful that I get to move, that I’ve largely outgrown my debilitating asthma. But still, I’ve never wanted to put pressure on it.

So I went into this 10K with one expectation: to just enjoy myself. I didn’t care what my time was, I didn’t care if I ran slower than everyone else.

I just wanted to run.

As we all grouped together at the start line, the buzz was undeniable. People chattered, people stretched, people fiddled with headphones. I made the decision to raw-dog the experience, opting out of headphones and music for the sounds of my breath and the nature around me.

And then we started, the big group slowly dispersing and morphing apart as people raced ahead and others fell behind.

I let my body lead, keenly aware of my panting, of my sweat, of my pulse.

As the race path wandered through the neighborhoods of Brielle, residents sat in their driveways on lawn chairs with signs, music, and cheers.

Pure adrenaline fueled my muscles. I found myself smiling and laughing as my feet carried me forward, forward, forward.

People turned their sprinklers and bubble machines in my direction and I ran through yelling, “THANK YOU!” People shouted from their yards, “You go girl!” “Keep smiling, champion!”

I had fun.

And somehow, I ended up crossing the finish line, the fourth girl to finish, at 47 minutes and 30 seconds.

---

I ended up placing first place in the 30-39 age group, with my sister close behind me in third place. We won matching sweatshirts.

My dad crushed it, forever an icon.

Adam was on my heels.

My sister’s husband ran the entire way, his kids cheering for him.

---

Little asthmatic Courtney was beaming inside of me that day. No pressure, no timelines or expectations, just joy.

What a gift to have this body, to have legs and arms and lungs. What a gift to have family, to have movement together.

What a delight to surprise yourself, to be amazed by your body and what you’re capable of. To discover new things about yourself and what you can achieve.

What a gift to just be happy running, a smile plastered on my face.

xx

Court