I was never a runner when I was a kid.  I was plenty active, but running as a sport or a hobby was never really anything that I got into.  I did not even begin running until I was in my early 30’s.  And I started big, with my first ever race being a half marathon.  Since then, I have run several other races, but usually no more than one or two a year.  Just for fun.  Just to keep in shape.  Just to keep me sane.

My oldest child is nine years old.  All three of my kids are active, but the nine-year old is especially active, playing on a soccer team that trains three hours a week and plays one or two games a weekend.  Miraculously, he was on break from soccer for a few weeks.  In order to keep him from bouncing off the walls due to lack of a sport, I invited him to run a 5K with me.  He has participated in some “fun runs” for kids, including one in May that covered around two city blocks (up and back).  And of course there are field day activities at school, where he has proven himself to be one of the fastest in his class, even despite the fact he is several inches shorter than several classmates.

He accepted the challenge, and we began a modified “training” program to get him ready.  We ran three times a week, between one and one and a half miles.  I let him set the pace, wherever he was comfortable, and gently coached him on the art of pacing himself so that he still had gas in the tank at the end.  On the first few runs, he alternated between running and walking, trying to find that comfortable pace where he could sustain running for a long period.  We went on one “long” run of two miles, where he crushed it, and did not have to walk once.  Then we “tapered” the week of the 5K, going on two short, easy runs of one mile.

He was nervous leading up the race, since we never ran three miles during any of the training runs.  But I told him to trust the training system and to believe that he was capable of running the full 5K.

The weather for the race was perfect.  A late June race can be muggy, hot, humid, and uncomfortable.  Somehow we lucked out with cloudy, overcast conditions, after a recent rain storm, so the humidity was low and the temperature was in the high 60’s at the start of the race.

When the race began, he let adrenaline control his pace, as he shot out of the gate among the crush of people at the start line.  After a quarter of a mile, I helped slow him down to a more reasonable pace, and assured him that he would still out run most of the early “fast” runners.  And he did.  He gleefully watched as many of the early leaders slowed down or even walked, as he continued to plow forward.  He gratefully accepted the water at the half-way point, and took a short break to walk while he downed his water.

Before he knew it, we had passed the two-mile marker, and he was still going strong.  Around mile 2.5, though, doubt began to creep in, and he wanted to walk for a bit.  I coaxed him into a really slow jog, which worked.  As we came into the last stretch, he could see the finish line, and he knew that he would make it.  At that point, he declared that he still had energy and challenged me to sprint to the finish.  And we did.  Passing several very tired people during that last stretch, as we flew across the finish line.

Finish time:  29:17, with an average pace of 9:44 mine/mile.  His first 5K and first PR.

After downing a bottle of water and eating a banana, he proceeded to do hand stands and cartwheels on the lawn.  I am thinking he may have had even more gas left in the tank than either of us thought.

Admittedly, when the race began, I had this competitive urge to see how fast I could go, to see where I would compare with the other runners who were going full-out.  But there is no feeling like running with someone who is trying a race for the first time.  Talking throughout, coaching them, encouraging them, making them feel confident that they can finish.  I am guessing this is why marathons have no problems finding “pace setters” who lead groups of weekend warriors to the end of the marathon.  There may be no PR as a pace setter, but there is a lot of enjoyment in helping others achieve their goals.

All in all, it was one of my favorite races ever.  And to say that I am proud of my nine-year old would be an understatement.  The reality is that in a few short years, he will blow by me, and tease me about slowing down to my pace.  And that’s just fine with me.