I didn’t run as a kid. In fact, any activity that involved the words run or walk, I was out. Once I walked down the beach to visit my cousins with my mom and sister, and I didn’t think I would ever recover. Maybe it was 2 miles total, but it felt like a death march. Plus my thighs learned about chafing that day. As I’m writing this right now, I don’t know if I actually disliked it so much as it was that I had the story in my head that I wasn’t good at it. The presidential fitness challenge did nothing to boost my morale. It wasn’t like it is now where kids are taught to try their best, don’t compare, set small goals, etc. It was a blue, red, and yellow sticker chart that let everyone know your physical abilities fell somewhere slightly above those of a sloth. I was no athlete.
Ever since I had children, I have not so secretly hoped one of them would enjoy running. Of course, I will support them in whatever they choose, but I’m also rooting for running. My oldest, Theia, has always expressed an interest in the sport. She’s done a few run clubs through the YMCA, she asks to go running on the weekend, and she was eager to sign up for the Canes 5K this past weekend. There has always been a part of me that wonders if she only does it because I do, but then when I see her smile during a run, I know she is experiencing the same joy I feel out there on the road. And for an 8 year old, that’s pretty special.
Yesterday Theia ran the Canes 5K in 32:40 and it ranks right up there with one of my favorite running memories. Not because of her mile splits (although she negative split like a boss), but because she got to experience all that is right with running and racing: hundreds of people coming together to cheer, to run, to volunteer, to have fun and an opportunity to challenge yourself, to discover a new limit, and to walk away with a belief in yourself that may not have existed when you woke up that morning. As we ran along the course yesterday, other runners, volunteers and spectators cheered for bib 1478 and I could see how much she loved it. It was like she realized complete strangers recognized that she was challenging herself and were encouraging her every step of the way. The random high 5s from strangers kept her going and as she passed people on the uphills, her confidence grew with each step. After sprinting across the finish line and regaining her breath, the pride she exuded was palpable. She didn’t say it, but I know that feeling, and I think it left her wondering what else is possible. I may not have been a runner as a kid, but I am so grateful I can share this with my children now. It’s an experience you can’t teach.
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