Two boys, one a freshman in high school and the other a 7th grader started their Cross Country seasons today. Early this morning (yes, I had to get up way early on a Saturday) I went one direction with the youngest, my wife drove off in the other with our high schooler.
It was an exciting time. Texting, stop-watch timing, screaming, running from one point on the course to the other, we cheered our boys on from different points in the county.
My wife tells me she had a blast. Excited for the opportunity for her boys. Watching our high schooler was like riding a roller coaster. She was entertained and thrilled by the level of competition and race drama. She left amazed at the performance of her son. She says to him, “Wow! That was really fun to watch! I am so proud that you did your best!”
Me? I made it. Dripping in sweat, nerves shattered, heart pounding, shoes covered in burnt, brown Kansas prairie grass. I made it. Glad it’s over. I internalized all the things we may have done differently, thinking about how to improve next time. I could have encouraged him more to run in the off season. Should I lean on him a little more next time? What should we do in the off season? He started a little too slow. Maybe that’s a good thing. He didn’t kick much at the end. Is that bad? I Pace with my head down, then up and finally finding my wispy thin progeny in the blanket of multi colored short shorts and tank tops. “Hey buddy! That was really fun to watch! I am so proud that you did your best!”
I’m glad the other three had a fun time today.