My younger son (16) has been hanging around the edges of becoming an awesome runner for a while now, so this week I asked him if he wanted to join the running club and he said yes! Fantastic, I thought, he can tag along to club events and keep me company. So on Wednesday evening I dragged him down to the clubhouse for a meeting which had the bonus of free chips for all, definitely kept him happy.
Anyway, at the meeting he was asked if he wanted to take part in a race on Sunday, he wasn’t sure and I wasn’t sure, so no more was said about it. Then on Friday he received an email asking again, to which he replied ‘I’ll think about it and let you know’. Saturday morning and time for parkrun, but my little buddy had only just woken up. He didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about dragging himself out of bed but after an ultimatum he got ready in record time and had a great run.
And then he wanted to do the race, I explained to him in three different ways that this race was twice the distance of parkrun, and much longer than he’d ever run before, but he was certain he wanted to do it… now this is the mental attitude of a real runner, nice one sunshine!
So this morning we (all of us) took him to the race and were keen to cheer him on. We found a great spot about 1km from the finish and happily supported all the runners, especially those from our club. About 40 minutes into the race our older son asked what time his brother would come past, I thought that at best it would be at about 55 minutes based on his parkrun time. Shortly after that one of our club runners said that he was doing really well but had a bit of a stitch.
When we saw him I jogged over with the intention of cheerleading him to the end but he was doing great, taking it at a steady pace, walking if he needed to and catching up to some of the runners in front of him. He had run 4km further than he’d done before and was still going. He was awesome, finishing in just under 60 minutes, and we were all so proud of him. Deserving a place in the team for sure.