Monday, April 6, 2009
Running to keep up with my caboose kiddo
"Good morning, Runner Girl!"
I tugged the blankets away from Christa's face. Even as she smiled, she squeezed her eyes shut and snuggled deeper into the bed.
A few minutes later, Christa headed to the shower, ready to start the day. A reminder of the new pair of sweat pants waiting for her lured her from the comfort of her covers.
Ah, Monday. First day of the week--and the first day of a new adventure for my caboose kiddo. Today is the first day of running club. Like any mom, I'm along for the ride--er, run.
Christa can't wait for practice this afternoon. She spent the weekend getting ready. Saturday included a trip with her dad to buy a good pair of running shoes. We added the sweat pants because four of the last five days have included snow. Ah, springtime in the Rockies!
I've paid the team fee and ordered the team t-shirt. Now all that's left to do is show up after school and enjoy the experience.
As the mom, I am invited into Christa's experience--but only so far. I can help get her ready: Pay the fee, purchase the right clothes, make sure she has a water bottle. But once she hits the field, she's on her own. I'll stand on the sidelines and cheer her on while she practices. Her dad and I will attend her races and cheer at those too.
Motherhood: that strange blend of holding on and letting go. I'm discovering it all over again as I help my eight-year-old daughter line up at the starting line and encourage her to "Get on her mark, get set, go!"
I'm experiencing just how far my children can run as I watch my twenty-something daughter, Amy, live life in Nicaragua. I never imagined Amy running quite that far when she was a little girl. But, when the time came, and she set her sights on nine months in a foreign country, I helped her get ready. I walked with her to the security area in the airport. And then I hugged her, stepped back and said, "Go!"--admittedly with a few tears.
As a mom, we have our years when we run alongside our children. We have our years when we run to keep up. And then we have our years when we watch our children run.
And all along we cheer them on.
Posted by Beth K. Vogt at 6:05 AM