Not all of us can be runners.
I wasn’t a runner my whole life. Until just last year, I had never once been able to run a mile continuously without stopping to walk, and certainly never finished with a single-digit time.
It turns out the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in that regard. Easton isn’t a runner either. At least not yet.
This fall, I signed him up for the Healthy Kids Running Series, a 5-week program where kids run age-appropriate races each Sunday afternoon. For the Kindergarten and First Grade age group, the race is a quarter mile long.
Easton’s very first race started off rocky. About three steps out of the gate, he tripped and fell. My heart sank. He got back up and ran some more and walked some more, dissolving into tears the entire loop around the park. My heart broke a little more for him. About halfway through, he stopped running and just walked dejectedly as I hustled myself across the field to encourage him.
I didn’t force him to cross the finish line. When he reached me, I gave him a hug and a pep talk as he frustratedly explained that the other kids weren’t listening and pushed him and how this kids’ run club was a terrible idea. He was sad and mad and embarrassed and frustrated. I felt his pain. I remember being that kid in P.E.
But five minutes later, in the fashion that 5-year-olds usually recover, the trauma of tripping had lessened, and he was drinking his Propel water and playing on the playground with his friends.
On the way home, I talked about next week’s race and what he could do differently. I suggested he start off slower until everyone was spread out and running at their own pace and then he could build speed. He listened, nodded his head determinedly, and said that he’d try again. He had his own complex strategy that involved walking at the start to the first cone, then jogging lightly to the next cone, and then running after that. I just listened and didn’t offer my two cents (for once). He had this.
So this Sunday, we went back for the second race. I reminded him of his strategy and he was confident again, ready to give it another try. I held my breath as the air horn went off to start the race, hoping with all my might that he wouldn’t fall again.
He didn’t.
But about 100 yards in, he was huffing and puffing at the end of all the other runners. He fell further behind and I could see the discouragement on his face. He slowed to a walk … and started to cry again.
He made it in a dejected walk about halfway around before I reached him. Again, I didn’t make him finish. But this time, when he told me he didn’t want to run again next week, I paused, thought about it, took a deep breath … and said OK.
My kid can be the quitter sometimes.
I could sense the judgment on some of the other parents’ faces: I should have made him cross the finish line. I should make him come back next week and the following week and the following week. He should finish what he started.
But I’m not going to.
I know he won’t improve his running skills without practicing, and the Healthy Kids Running Series is all about practice, improvement, and healthy exercise. I know there is value in encouraging persistence, triumph above adversity, and the impact of hard work on reaching a goal.
But I also know there is value in trying something and recognizing that it doesn’t work for you. You aren’t going to be good at every single thing you try. Yes, with practice, you might improve. But some things will come more naturally than others, and I would rather my kindergartener focus his attention of figuring out what his passions are rather than tormenting himself in the interests of finishing a quarter-mile race.
Easton isn’t a runner. Yet. Maybe he will be a year from now. Maybe he’ll never be. Either way is OK with me, as long as he keeps trying new things to figure out what he is: A basketball player. A swimmer. An artist. A piano player. A LEGO engineer. A visionary inventor.
He is so many things, and there’s one thing I’m not going to let him be: A kid unnecessarily distressed by a totally optional activity that his parent signed him up for with the best intentions.
So we’re cutting our losses on the Healthy Kids Running Series this fall. We tried it once. We came back and tried it again. And now we’re going to move on to something else because a $35 activity is not worth so many tears and crushing insecurity.
And while he may be a “quitter,” he’s a loyal friend. He already asked if we could go back next Sunday to watch his friends race. So you might see us on Sunday afternoon at the Healthy Kids Running Series anyway – at the sidelines cheering on his friends and on the playground afterward, celebrating their success.
Now, how to be a good friend – that’s one thing I won’t let my kids quit on, and a lesson I’ll never stop teaching.
