Proud Dad

Baby's first steps

Baby's first words

1st day of school

First time he asks "Can we go for a run together?"

My daughter has been anointed, since her first step, as the running prodigy I so yearn for. She wants to run, and more importantly, to compete for victory and all glory.  The track will be her coliseum. Montville her throne amongst her empire of New England running minions.  Following the footsteps of a previous generation.   Oops...maybe I am dreaming beyond what a father should.

My son, hasn't had the slightest interest in running.  He has dabbled in various sports, but the blood in his veins doesn't boil at the hint of a competitive intruder in the ranks (unless of course it is in the form of electronic gaming on his iPad).  I felt his future was aligned with electronic gaming or animals (the kid knows every sea animal discovered and to be found at a later date by another Cousteau family member). 

Yesterday, after finishing my demoralizing 8 mile beat down, he approached me.  I heard those seven beautiful words I never expected to hear from him.  Without a pause, almost responding faster than the brain could process the statement, I answered "Yes".  I didn't want to show all the excitement, as that would alert the other runner in the house that competition has just been discovered within her domain.   The fireworks were going off inside me.  Immediately thinking of the best place to take him, how far to go, how was I going to get my run in, and how often do we take breaks.  Knowing I had volunteered to time at the Montville high school track meet, I informed him that he must have all his homework done by 5:30, and be ready to run.  We made it through this morning without raising awareness to the tiger in the arena, that training was planned for her foe this evening.  Much to my dismay, my ability to accurately project when a high school track meet would end, was an hour off.  At 5:30 we still had several events remaining.  I sent a text message to my wife that I was potentially an hour late and to let Matthew know we can run tomorrow, of after dinner.  No clear choice was announced by my wife in the responding text message.  Upon stepping out of my truck at my house, I had no clue as to what the evening would entail.

In the front of the house are my two children playing, together, happily.  Given my son's recent change in athletic motivations...this current deviation from the norm wasn't entirely out of context.  So, now they get along.  For how long...who cares...oh wait, try 10 seconds.  Matthew asks about going for our run now.  For me, to explain the shock on my daughter's face would simply be unjust.  It would appear that a sacred father-daughter bond had been ripped to shreds by yours truly.  An immediate look...nah, a visual demand of, "WTF Dad!?!?!" from my 7 year old daughter was on full display for all the heavens to witness. Now I had to fend off a vengeful queen, demanding her participation.   To his credit, Matthew buttoned up.  This was my battle...solo.  He wouldn't have stood a chance, as he was within arms length.  I, at least, had a door to slam shut if she came at me.  After committing to her a slot on my training calendar later this week, she relented.  So, onto the next phase, the run.

The plan was for Matt and I to cover 1 to 1 1/2 miles together through our hometown park. I would drop him off at a little gym set, while I work my mileage up to a short 3 today.  He struggled through the first 1/2 mile, but mostly due to the climbs.  I talked him out of stopping, " just run a bit slower till you recover".  When we got to the end of the first trail, it was .6 miles in.  He was still talking, but noticeably more out of breadth than the first 200 meters.  He made it through the hardest section.  I forced him to stop and walk 50 yards, and talked about always moving forward.  Once we started running again, he was super chatty.  Fortunately for him,  the rest was flat, grassy fields to get to the 1.25 mile point. We worked our way around several baseball and soccer fields.  Once we got to the 1.25 point, we stopped and walked (bathroom break too). He then floored me, with a request to join me for the last 2 miles.  I warned him he would be sore...which he denied would happen since his legs felt fine now.   Heck, maybe he is right.  I don't know if 12 year olds can get sore.  So we worked our way downhill, back to the truck, for a water break at our second mile. Like a champ, he worked through some tired legs over that last mile.  Complaints of ankle pain, cramps, thirst, all were tossed my way as perfectly justified reasons to hit pause on my garmin one more time.  I refused. 

We were both higher than a kite upon finishing together.  High five and a big hug...then off to the house. Before departing however, he asked the one question I never expected..."How far did Brenna run with you, dad?".  Without putting an ounce of thought, the words came out, "1.5 miles".  You could see the smile from across a football field. That "I am going to rub it in her face" look.  I immediately sent a message to Heather, "Get Brenna to bed before we arrive home in 10 minutes!" followed by a brief explanation. 

We walked into the house, and I was greeted by my daughter with a wonderful kiss and hug...the joy lasted but a brief nanosecond.  My son was so anxious to hit the release button on this bomb, it almost went off before we made it into the house.  Boom!  The enemy has arrived at the gates of coliseum. Competition within the borders of the empire. It isn't just hers now.  The bar must be raised.

I am now penciled in for 4 or 5 miles with Brenna this Thursday.