The Race

Well, we did it! It was a drizzly, cold morning, but the excitement in the air just cut right through that. So many families were at the starting line ready to run. Rachel and I moved into the big glob of people, trying to inch our way kind of near the front. Ready, set, go! We starting running as fast as she could. Eventually, she wanted to hold hands as we ran. She saw a number of other kids doing that. So we ran linked together, passing some people, getting passed by others. She just kept pushing with this look on her face of pure determination. I told her before we began that it didn't matter if we won or not... our goal was to keep running the whole time and finish the race. At one point, she asked if we could walk and we slowed down to a fast walk, but that didn't last more than five steps before she was jogging again. The last bit of the race was marked with cones and I told Rachel I was going to let go of her hand at that point and I wanted her to run as fast as she could to the finish line. (I couldn't run through the finish line because I wasn't actually signed up for the race. I was her moral support.) We hit the cones and she snatched her hand away and ran as fast as she could.

Being a parent isn't easy. If things don't go well for your kid, even the little things, it hurts you as much as it hurts them. Their failures are yours. If they break a leg, it hurts you, too. But of course, the other side is true. Their successes are yours, too.

Watching Rachel reach that finish line filled me with joy. Just pure joy for her and her accomplishment. That's why being a parent is the best job in the world.

epilogue....

Rachel, after the race:
That was a half mile?

Me:
Yes.

Rachel:
That was pretty short.