Running with the Kid

By the time you read this, good fortune permitting, I will again be a father. This Dad business is a pretty good job.

I like to run, and daughter number one has taken to waiting for my return at the top of the lane to our house. When she sees me, she takes off running for the house and “beats” me because of her head start. Every day she waits a little longer and gets less of a head start.

She runs madly and joyously at full tilt. Her head is turned back to look at me and she’s laughing. I’m deathly afraid she will fall head first into the blacktop, or veer off and crash into a tree.

“Look where your going, Honey!”

“You can’t catch me!”

“Look where your going!”

She’s been to two of my marathons and has asked to run one with me. Last June I found a candidate. There was one mile “family fun run” scheduled along the Cross-Country course of a local school. I figure that’s a good enough “marathon” for a three year old.

My daughter is very enthusiastic about the idea. For a week it’s all she talks about. Her attitude though is mildly disturbing the day of the race. We show up and there’s about 100 people there, including a number of small children. My daughter points to each person. “I’m gonna beat him. And him. And her.” Etc.

We sit in the grass and wait. An interesting man is stretching in the grass in front of us.

“Daddy, why is that guy nekkid” asks my daughter loudly.

“He’s not naked honey. He just doesn’t have a shirt on.”

“Ooo. That’s disgusting. He’s fat”

Clearly the man hears us. My daughter is talking quite loud. He has the good form not to look over and embarrass me, which I appreciate. Sometimes pretending you don’t exist can be a nice favor to for somebody, and I appreciated him doing it for me. Because of this courtesy I felt obligated to defend him.

“He’s not fat, honey. He has lots of muscle.” In actuality, the guys pretty burly with a bit of a gut and some serious love handles even though he is sucking it in. He really should be wearing a shirt. I mean this is the “Family Fun Run.”

“Daddy, look at his big pointy nipples!”

Well, how do I spin that?

“Don’t point honey. It’s not nice.”

“I think he’s very hairy.”

“Yes, I notice that, too.”

“Why is he nekkid?”

“I dunno, honey. Come on let’s go get a drink of water.”

I try to grin apologetically at the guy, but I still don’t exist, which is a good thing.

Finally, we get to the starting line, and I tell my daughter the one really important thing about races. “We always start in the back. We don’t want to get in the way of the people that are going to run really fast, and it’s a lot better to start in the back and finish in the front than the other way around.”

“Let’s start in the front. I’m gonna run really fast.”

“Maybe next time. Let’s see how we do from back here, first.”

“Ok. Next time we’ll start in the front,” she says, and it’s guaranteed that my daughter will remember this, and hold me to it. You have to be careful what you tell her.

The race starts and we’re tearing off down the hill. My kid is fast I note with some small pride. As we are running, my daughter is narrating the entire experience.

“I’m running Daddy. I’m running. I’m still running. You see that guy? I’m gonna beat that guy. He’s slow. Yeah we’re gonna pass him. Look Daddy we passed him. There’s a hill. Look Daddy we’re coming to a hill. I’m running up the hill Daddy.”

“You’re doing great, honey.”

As we round a corner there are actually some people cheering, and they cheer my daughter. “Go little girl in yellow. Go!” She’s all smiles.

We come to the home stretch and I sprint ahead. At the finish line I stop and turn around and take her picture.

“We did it Daddy. We won.”

“You did great. I’m very proud of you.”

“I beat everybody.”

This is the moment I’ve been thinking about and planning for.

“I don’t think we beat those people,” and I point to the 65 people drinking water and walking around who finished before we did. “I think those people beat us.”

My daughter stares at this evidence for a few moments.

“I think they beat us, too.” And now I’m very proud of her.

Back to Issue 17 Index