Running Between the Raindrops

This boy is awesome.  

How could I have missed posting about the most amazing day he had just before school ended?  Bad, bad mama!!!

Adam made it to the region track finals this year.  He trained and worked very, very hard, and I loved watching it all evolve.  Adam is an unusual child in that sometimes he is very social and outgoing, and other times very private and solitary.  He is punctual and dedicated to the things he loves, but happy to blow off the things he does not.

And the boy loves track!

His events at this meet were the 110 and 300 meter hurdles, and the long jump.  Now, the hurdles he had been doing very well in, but the long jump, surprisingly, not so much.  His coaches had him doing things totally differently from last year, and I think it messed him up.  That boy who could fly last year never even got close to his personal best this year.  It was discouraging for him.  And me.  I love watching that boy jump.

At the big meet, a rare but powerful storm rolled in.  The cement stair-step bleachers became a waterfall once the clouds erupted, and even our rain ponchos didn't save us.  By the end of the meet we were the only family left in the stands on our side of the track.    The runners waiting for their events had sought refuge in a metal freight container used to store hurdles, and they reminded me very much of the scene in I, Robot where the robots are all hanging out in the doorways of the freight boxes.  Only wet, and with blue lips.

In his first race, Adam was doing pretty well initially, but in the last few moments a boy pulled past him and he lost the 3rd place spot.  He was more than miffed, and no motherly consoling that 4th was still awesome took the gloom out of his face.  His goal had been top three, and he didn't get it.

Deciding that he could not afford to split his energies between the remaining two events, he decided not to jump.  "I don't want to get all cold and soaked and not do well in the race," he told us.

He knows himself best.

I tried to hide my disappointment.  Part of what I love about the long jump is the fact that they land in a pit of fluffy sand, which is nearly the same as feathers compared to the damage that could be inflicted by stumbling over a hurdle (made, as we all know, of shark teeth and broken glass shards).

He stayed as warm as possible, and we waited for his event as thunder began to roll in the distance.  The MC announced the meet would continue as long as there was no lightning, and they began slamming through the events as fast as possible in hopes of getting as many done as possible before having to call it.  The rain, so needed and wanted by us all in this insane drought, was miserable.  Thank heavens we left The Middles and The Littles with a sitter!  I think I'd rather deal with an angry honey badger than a wet and cranky Jonah.

Finally, Adam's race came up.  We had parked ourselves near the jumping pits early on, and his race came up so suddenly we had no time to move to the finish line, but we got to watch him prepare for take-off, as the race started right in front of us.  To warm up, Adam does this crazy jump straight up into the air that makes him look like a rocket blasting off, like he might not come back down.  

The starting gun went off so close to us that it made my ears ring, and he immediately pulled ahead with the fastest boys in the pack, vying for lead with a few others.  Then, at about the halfway point, Adam suddenly sprung forward.  At first I wasn't sure it was him.  From that distance wet teenagers all kinda look alike.  But then I saw the square shoulders and rigid, pumping fists that are easy for his mama to recognize.  In just the last few moments a boy came up on Adam's left and nearly overtook him!  He told us later that he heard the loud steps of the boy slapping the rain-soaked track approaching, and thought, "Aw, heck no!"  He was determined he would not lose his lead this time.  From somewhere deep down he mustered just a bit more umph to secure his lead, in the last few steps of the race, and with a lead of just about 2 paces, he won first place!

The dark cloud that had descended after his first race had lifted, and he came running across the field to celebrate his victory with us.  His smile was reflecting all of ours.  I felt so proud, of course, but also just plain happy to see him get that thing, that important goal he had set for himself. 

He stayed behind to cheer for his team mates and bask a little in the celebration of his win.  A win for him was a win for the whole team.  Guy and I and the big boys sloshed hurriedly for the van, laughing and smiling all the way, and I enjoyed the chatter as everyone recounted the details of the race to one another.  As we got closer to home, the clouds thinned, and we arrived home to find that it hadn't even rained on our house, a mere 1/2 hour away.

Guy stopped and bought a cake and a pizza on the way home.  We scraped off the "Happy Birthday" from the cake, and I inscribed his name and victory in frosting on it.  

When Adam got home, it was easy to bask in the sunlight of his smile and the warmth of his excitement.  It was like it had never rained at all.

Declaring Independance

I don't run.

That's what I thought of myself.  Just the way some people say, "I don't ski", I believed of myself that I don't run (unless in the presence of zombies, though I could be compelled to run toward chocolate).

Funny how we have to re-frame our beliefs about ourselves from time to time.  

I still can't say, "I run," in the pure sense of the word.  I hobble, sure.  I do a very hoppy-walk, maybe, but you couldn't really call it running.  Its more like a frazzled housewife stumbling across hot coals.  My friends Danielle and Kathy don't seem to mind, though.  Even though in a zombie invasion they could leave me in the dust as an entree, they let me set the pace when we have been out training.

On the 4th of July I "ran" (air quotes) my first 5K.  We had been using the Couch2-5K phone app for training, but hadn't gotten to the end of the training guide before race day.  I just told myself not to worry about it, because ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING I did in this race would be better than my efforts in the past.  Still, I had only done 2 miles in one shot, and that was with some structured 90 second breaks.  Oh, well! Too late now, it was go time. 

We headed over to the park at about 20 minutes before the race was to start, but as we approached the school, a horn went off... ten minutes early!   It was anticlimactic for sure, but all was not lost.  We got close to the start and joined the crowd as it poured out into the street.                    

Now, because "I don't run", I have only ever heard about the mysterious responses the body has in these settings.  There is a supposed adrenaline rush to speed you along your way.  Ha.  Yah, for like 30 seconds.  It was no time at all before my body was protesting the running, and telling me I was supposed to still be in bed.  "Hel-lo!!! Duh, it's a holiday!" my calves informed me.

About a century into the run some wise guy thought it would be keen to put up a "MILE 1" sign, and about four miles later a "MILE 2" sign.  Not helpful.  What the first sign actually said was, "Hey loser, you aren't even half way! Nanny-nanny!" and the next said, "Caution: 90 year old pushing a stroller passing you on the left".

My left leg grew heavy and achy.  I could hear the voice of my friend Andrea who has MS, in my head saying, "It's hard, but I am good at doing hard things."  I told myself that Danielle and Kathy thought I could do it (even if I didn't think so).  I thought about laying on a radiology table as Dr. F. pushed tools through my blood clots and inflated balloons in my veins while I suppressed tears of intense pain.  "This is easy compared to that," I told myself.  I may say it too many times here, but I thought about the blessing to have been given this opportunity, and this time my tears were just pure joy.  

There were, on occasion, perfect strangers who were calling out encouragement, and I kinda' wanted to hug them, even though it certainly couldn't have been for me.  It was like they could hear the crazy lady in my head telling me to lay down in the gutter and cry. 

 "Keep going!" they said.

"You're not a runner!" insisted the crazy lady.

"You're doing it!!!" they smiled.

"Gutter!!!!" said Crazy.

"Go!" cheered my new best friends.

The last half mile of the run followed the 4th of July parade route, and was speckled with people who had surely been paid to line the way.  Even though I felt embarrassed to be seen running in the light of day (all of my running-from-zombies takes place at night), I didn't care by that point.  Besides, there were people in tutus passing me up, nobody cared about me.

Nobody, until right at the finish, where I saw my hubby running backwards with a camera, and the Littles and Middles yelling, "Yay, Mama!!!  Go, Mama!!!"

"You did it, Dear!" Guy called, and I realized I was at the finish.  Guy walked through the finish line and put his arms around me.  Anybody looking would have seen us both in tears, and probably thought, "Geez, it's just a 5K, not a marathon!"

I guess that depends on how you look at it.

"... My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.  Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." -Corinthians 12:9

Boy with Heart

Adam is a boy with a lot'a heart. 

 And most thankfully, that heart is healthy.

Thanks to a reader here, who suggested that we have Adam's heart checked (thank you, "Physician Worrier"!) we took Addy to the pediatrician, who sent us for a chest x-ray and E-something-G, which then led us to a visit with the pediatric cardiologist who did an echo cardiogram (when Adam asked what that was we told him a doctor would yell into his mouth and then stick his ear up to listen for an echo).  When all was said and done, the verdict was:

Adam's heart is only large in the metaphoric sense.  

He is very healthy.

And very happy, because he got to race yesterday.

That boy is fast.

(and he ate a great lunch before the race)

***

I find I am loving the track meets.  It is quite a different experience from soccer.  In soccer there was only one place to look, and that was wherever the ball was.  With track, there are no less than 4 events taking place in a given moment.  

In soccer, when a kid makes a goal, the audience cheers for their team.

In track, as the kids race by, the audience cheers until the kids cross the finish line.  And they cheer for every kid, particularly if one falls or is last to cross the finish.  There is a feeling of fellowship in the audience, and every kid feels like MY kid when they are struggling.  

In soccer, parents can be heard yelling directions at their kid, and criticizing the ref.

So far, in track, I have only heard parents complimenting skill and effort, no matter whose.

In soccer, the coach decides who plays when, and in what position.  In track, a kid decides what he will compete in, and may change his mind, even up to the last minute.  Perhaps he doesn't feel strong enough to compete after a hard race so he chooses not to try his high jump that day.  Or perhaps he wasn't planning to do the 100 meter, but all of a sudden feels like it.  Why not?  I love that they are being encouraged to listen to their bodies, and make their choices themselves.

And you know how they say "There are no losers?"  In track, there really aren't.  Even though the kids race in groups, there may be 20 kids in one race taken in heats.  No one will know who the ultimate winner is until all the numbers have been crunched, and honestly the kids don't even seem to care.  There is a person with a stop watch at the end of each lane of runners, and as that runner crosses, the person informs the runner of their time.  At the end of the day, the kids are only racing against themselves.  Personal best, they call it.  It is amazing.

During a particular race yesterday, three girls, two from our son's school and one from the host school were racing.  They took off at the pistol, but one of our girls began to stagger and stumble, nearly falling.  By the time she got her footing she was several paces behind the other two girls.  It was a short race, and as they crossed the finish line, the two leaders turned and immediately wrapped their arms around the girl who had faltered as she crossed the finish.  She walked between them, crying a little from disappointment, and they comforted her, neither caring about their time, or who "won".

At another moment, a little 6th grader in dead last was dragging himself at the end of his last lap on the mile.  At that moment, a teammate of his ran along the side of the track keeping pace with the boy, calling encouragement to him.  The boy perked up, and ran with just a little more spring in his step all the way to the finish line.

I  felt like I had arrived on a new planet, where all that mattered was doing better than you had in the past.  Where the lines between teammates and opponents blur and doing your best made you a winner.  

Cool planet.

When we were leaving the meet, Adam said, "I do better when there is someone ahead of me.  When I am in the lead I don't try as hard to do my best as I do when there is someone ahead of me."

I do my personal best when there is a good example to keep up with, too, don't you?