Determined to Win

My oldest son has a real competitive streak. I knew it was there, but I didn’t know how deep it ran until last weekend. On Sunday he ran a 2K mud run and tied for 1st Place.

Leading up to the race I was telling him to pace himself, make sure he had enough energy to finish. The race wound up muddy hills, over logs and through a creek. It was the longest run he has competed in and I wasn’t sure where he was going to fall in the pack. I just wanted to make sure he finished. He had other plans.

“Mommy, I’m going to try to win,” he told me. “Yes, of course you are,” I replied, as all parents do.

At the starting buzzer he sprinted into the distance and I thought he’d never keep up that pace. But he did. I was surprised at the finish line to see my kid appear at the top of the last hill with an exhausted but extremely determined look on his face. He obviously saw there was one boy in front of him and that propelled him to push to full-speed. He all but flew down the hill to the end. The grade was pretty steep and I thought he was going to end up cartwheeling through.

My son is a pretty active kid, but this was the first time I have ever seen him too tired to talk. He had used up everything he had. I was shocked and proud. I realized he had wanted to win and he had worked very hard to do so. It was a great experience for him. Now he's talking about a triathlon in the fall.

I love the fact that my oldest son is excited about running and racing. I think encouraging kids in sports that they can continue into adulthood can help them maintain healthy lifestyles. When I was young my sport was figure skating. I’m sure I had great posture and balance at the time, but as an adult it really only means that I can awe beginners with my crossovers at the local arena.

Now that my oldest is getting into running I also look forward to passing on my wisdom. Today I tried teaching him about the importance of hydration. He looked at me like I was nuts. Maybe I’m getting a little too carried away.

The Accidental Runner

I have to admit that learning to run wasn’t my idea.

After giving birth to my first child I knew I had to start thinking about getting back in shape. But all I did was think about it. Then one day I got a phone call from my sister-in-law. She had clipped a “Learn to Run 5K in Six Weeks” program out of a magazine and wanted to know if I was interested. I said I was.

Until then, running was not my thing. In high school we used to run 1K in gym class. I was always one of the last runners back to the school, red-faced, panting and looking like I was about to pass out. Later, in my 20s, my brother used to goad me into going for a run with him. I’d make it a block or two then turn around and stumble home hearing him laugh as he sped off into the distance.

I started out with doubt in my mind. I didn’t even own running shoes and I wasn’t about to shell out the money based on a program I wasn’t sure about. So there I was, at the beginning of my running career, wearing hiking boots.

It was agony at first (the boots and the exercise). Thirty second bursts of running felt like hours. Gradually one minute of running became three minutes and so on. My running route was an old cemetery at the end of my street containing tall memorials mixed with underground crypts. I was getting up before the baby woke, putting on my shoes – yes, I did eventually buy proper footwear – and heading out to the cemetery about every second day. I even started to look forward to it.

I’m sure I ran every route possible through that cemetery. I knew many of the engravings on the gravestones by heart and they gave me comfort as I accomplished a goal I never knew I had. At the end of six weeks I ran for half-an-hour straight and that was it. The program was complete. I was a runner.

After persevering through what seemed like a grueling training program, it feels like I should have had some huge goal at the end. But I didn’t. I simply wanted to keep my weight in check. I did that by going out and running for half-an-hour at a time. I continued running for the next few years, stopping as I had two more children, then running again in bits and spurts.

Then I was asked by friends to join them in a 5K community race. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I had a great time. I wanted more. Now I’m training for my fourth race over 20K and thinking about upping the distance next year. And I still feel like I'm just getting started.