The Fourth of July weekend was upon us. This was going to be the 29th year of the annual town road races. A week before Max had decided he was going to run the 5K race. That sounds exciting but when is he going to train?
You see, Max doesn’t run. He doesn’t like to. If he has to run he will do it in short spurts.
“Okay, I’m done,” and he will continue walking the rest of the way. He generally just relies on his bike or his scooter to get anywhere.
Last year he surprised us the night before when he said he was going to do the 2k race. We tried to talk him out of it because we didn’t think he would make it. We didn’t argue with him; we just told him our concerns. It didn’t matter, he ran anyway. And he did fantastic. It took him just over 10 minutes to finish the run. Talk about a proud Daddy!!
He thought he would do a 5k by the end of the summer but it didn’t happen.
This year we had a whole week to train. He decided I would be his coach. That’s great; the guy who doesn’t run. Okay, in 9th grade I planned on joining the high school track team. I started to train one day by running an eighth of a mile from a nearby elementary school to my house.
I made it but that was when I decided that this was not going to be my sport. I never ran again, or almost never. A couple of months ago I started trying to run along side Max when he was riding his bike just to keep up. That never lasted too long.
But okay, I am the coach. The race was on Saturday. On Monday we got up at 6 in the morning and walked over to a nearby quarter mile track. We ran around once; then walked half way around; then finished up running another half. We decided that was enough and headed home.
On the way back to the house we talked about the next practices. We would do two a day until Friday. We figured that Max would have to be able run 16 times around the track to be ready for the race.
But we didn’t count on Max’s spur of the moment plans he would have for the rest of the week. He was never available for another practice session. As it got closer to race time my wife and I hoped that he would change his mind and forget about running.
It didn’t work out that way however. On the morning of the race he was very excited and wanted to go immediately to the track. The only problem was that his race was at 6 that night and I wasn’t going to sit all day on the sidelines waiting. So, with a lot of grumbling, Max did his chores. We later went down to the town festival where he rode ponies, ate hot dogs and pizza, and wandered over to the race track to register for his 5K.
Then we had two hours to wait. In the interim Max and I hopped in the car and drove the course. During the trip I pulled a DUH moment. It seemed very long, I couldn’t figure out why. A 5K is just over 4 miles but this route seemed to be getting longer and longer. Every once in awhile during the drive I would say “Max, remember, you are still running here.”
And then comes the DUH! I realized I was driving the 10K route which happened to be on the same course as the 5K. He was now thinking he should do this one instead. Nope, I don’t think so. Okay, with some more grumbling he agreed. So we drove the 5K route which is along nice quite country road. By the end of it he was even more excited…if that is even possible.
We had an hour to kill so I had him stretching a lot. It was a sweltering hot day so to his consternation I made sure he drank a lot of water and Gatorade. He doesn’t like drinking. But by the time of the race he had had only about 10 ounces of fluid.
Then they called the runners to the starting line. My wife finally joined us so we went up to wait with Max for the start. We ran into a friend of ours and her family. They run the 5K every year. She was excited to see Max was running too. My wife and I were still pretty nervous but glad that he had found someone he knew to run with.
Our friend’s husband wanted to know why I wasn’t running. I just snorted.
There it was, the warning bell. The runners lined up and positioned themselves. There was the blast and they were off. Our son was at the beginning of the pack. Once they were gone my wife and I headed for the finish line to wait. We found a shady spot out of the sun and heat and relaxed on the ground.
I figured that since it took Max just over 10 minutes to do the 2K last year that for this one it would probably take at least 25 minutes. I told my wife to expect him in 30 minutes because I didn’t think he could keep up the same pace as the last race.
While we waited I checked out the finish line. The course trail came down the street and turned into a ball park. The runners would have to barrel down a hill and through the field before crossing the line at the back side of it. When the first runners arrived my wife moved to the finish while I went to the hill at the entrance to the field.
Then we waited. And waited. And waited.
The longer it took the more worried I got. I had originally planned to follow along the route in my car to make sure he didn’t collapse on the way. Except for the 2K last year he has never run more than 10 feet at a time and during this race it was so sweltering hot. But all the streets were blocked so I couldn’t do it.
I also found out just after the race started that at the 1K and at 4.5K marks the runners passed the fire station. The firemen had set up firehouses to mist them down as they passed. They also had two water stations positioned along the route and there were people watching to make sure that there weren’t any problems.
But still Max didn’t come. Not only that our friend didn’t show up either. It was now 30 minutes into the run. Thoughts went through my head that maybe she slowed her pace down to keep steady with him. Or maybe she stopped because he collapsed.
Just as I had decided to walk the route from finish to start to find out who comes running down the hill and the home stretch?
Max.
I yelled!
“Go Max, Go!!! Go!! Go!! Go!!”
He turned his head as if in a daze. He heard me but I don’t think he saw me. Then he crossed the finish line.
33 minutes and 13 seconds!! Amazing run, especially for a non-runner!
My wife and I rushed over to congratulate him. He held up a finger on each hand to tell us to hold on as he bent over.
He threw up.
I got a comment from a friend later telling me how fantastic it was…all except the puke part. I responded that that was the best part. It means he is now a runner!
And what happened to our friend? She showed up two minutes later. This was an even bigger surprise for us; she does this race every year. My boy had beaten her.
Max still hasn’t come down from the excitement. He wore his running shirt with the number still on it to church on Sunday. He wore it to school today.
And Dad and Mom have been so proud! We have been telling everyone we meet about Max’s run. Our neighbor has already asked him to run a 5K in the fall with him.
That’s my boy!
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