This is how the Cougar Run went down.

When Weston and I moved our family back to Utah 3 years ago, we decided to participate in BYU's Homecoming by doing the Cougar Run 5K. Before the race, we noticed they were also holding races for children: 200M, 400M, and 800M.  We thought it might be fun to involve our children in those races someday.

Now it is BYU Homecoming 2012 and we have signed everyone up for the races appropriate to their age, including ourselves.  In preparation, we took our family to the track at the high school a couple of times in order to get them accustomed to the respective distances they would be running.  I was actually quite impressed with Annelise's stamina.  Her racing distance was the 200M, which meant half-way around the track.  She ran her 1/8 mile and kept going.  A full lap. Sometimes two laps without stopping.  I would look over at her plugging away and think, "Dang, girl.  Maybe you could be good at this running thing."  But, what do I know?  Overall, I thought we would, at minimum, give the kids an opportunity for a good athletic experience because we did, after all, make a bit of an effort to train them.

Ha!

I will spare you the unnecessary details of how we tried to psych up our kids by assuring them that it's not about crossing the finish-line first. (As long as they didn't stop to walk they would be winners, right?)....and lead you straight to the bit where Annelise decided she hated her bib as soon as we pinned it on her.  She cried from that moment, to the starting line, through the race course holding her daddy's hand as she walked, and across the finish line, with perhaps one or two 2-year-old competitors behind her. 

Next up was Adam running the 400M (Quarter-mile).  I think it would be safe to say his heart just wasn't in it.  I don't think it helped that he was wearing 3 layers of clothing on both top and bottom (see above photo for reference).  I'm pleased that he wasn't shy about showing off his runner's card declaring his time to the BYU Cheerleaders we ran into later on, even though he came in dead last. 

Now it was time for Peter to run the 800M, a distance he ran several times during training.  I escorted him to the starting line and by the time we got there it was already packed 2 or 3 lines deep with eager, energetic, (and I will mention lanky, which he is not) boys ready to kill it.  Prior to the gunshot he stayed back a step or two from the rest of the boys. I gestured, trying to usher him up into the throng. This is what he said to me:

"But I want you to be able to see me!"

I may or may not have had to fight back a tear at that point.  After all, what more was there for me to care about, really?  My little mama's boy ran the whole two laps without stopping, with a smile on his face, though lagging substantially behind the crowd.  Before his final push to the finish line, he became aware of a boy behind him who was tired and clearly not enjoying himself. This video shows him giving encouraging gestures to that boy.  

Again, I had to fight back proud mama tears. For my boy who ran a slow and steady, cheerful, sympathetic race, finishing 3rd-to-last.

So....I guess "training" is all relative, right?  Did we expect our kids to finish first? No. Did we expect them to finish last? No. Did we expect that other kids parents....you know....REALLY train them? No.  Should we have expected other kids parents to REALLY train them? Probably.  Was it still a good athletic experience for them?  I hope so. 

Work Like A Dog

When I was 8 years old, my family got a puppy and named her Claire. She was a cute little Shelte/Golden Lab mix. A miniature version of Old Yeller.

 Fast-forward about ten years....

Now I am 18-ish. That makes Claire, I guess, 70-ish.

One Saturday morning I decided to take Claire with me on a "run." You should know that I am not, nor have I ever been, a very avid or motivated runner.  We ran from my parents' house in the tree streets up and around the Provo Temple and back.  So, maybe a mile or two.  When we arrived back at the house, I thought we were both feeling great.  That is, until we entered the side door and started to climb the five small steps into the kitchen.  I noticed Claire was not at my feet.  I turned around and watched her slowly, painfully, desperately placing one paw in front of the other, trying to pull herself up the stairs.  For the first time, ever, it occurred to me that Claire had grown old.  I felt a twinge of guilt for taking her on such a demanding expedition and making her work like a ......well,....dog.  That image of her trying to muster up the strength to take one more step was seared into my memory.  Lately, I have found myself recalling the image quite often.

This is how I feel at the end of every day. 

Happy Mother's Day!

I made this video with Annelise's playschool class. Hope you enjoy! Watch it on YouTube because I can't get
the full screen here.

That Doesn't How It Goes!

Check it out. I can't stop admiring this picture.

Annelise loves to sing. It is very cute. She makes up words and goes on and on...something akin to the way Frances sings in Russell Hoban's beloved children's series.

Her most recent composition goes like this:

"The sun is coming up,

The sun is coming up,

The sun is coming up,"

(then in a high baby voice)

"The sun is coming down

The sun is coming down

The sun is coming down

But, I don't care.

I don't know why, because."

She was trying to teach it to me today in the car.

Each time I tried my best to sing it, I would inevitably be interrupted by my teacher:

"That doesn't how it goes!"

Annelise uses this phrase whenever applicable. When she was learning her ABC's, I heard her rehearsing (while sitting on the potty, no less)

"ABCDEFG

HIKA....

Urghhh! That doesn't how it goes!!"

repeat.

Whenever I hear her say "That doesn't how it goes" I giggle to myself. Along with all the other cute little things that come out of her little 3-year-old brain.

It was only a few days ago that I realized something...

She is right.

When you ask someone how it goes, you say, "How does that song go?"

You don't say, "How is that song go?"

Why do we say, "How does it go?" in the question form and in answer we say, "That isn't how it goes."

She's right.