Worth a Tri

As parents, it's our job to protect our kids, right? We should keep them safe, right?

Over the years, I have taught my son to play it safe. Through my example, my fears, my desire to protect him from feeling disappointment, I have sheltered him. I didn't know I was doing it at the time. I thought I was being, you know, "a good mom". But what I was really doing, was teaching him not to reach his fullest potential. I was protecting him at my fear level, not his. He does things that look like he is stretching, but they are usually pretty easy for him. Others might disagree, and create a list of things he has done that were brave, but they didn't really feel brave to him. I know this well. It too, is my pattern. Yesterday, he was brave, and stretched, and safe!

Here is a little back story. My son's school has a one mile race to celebrate the top ten fastest runners in 3rd-5th grade. At the end of 3rd grade, my son was number 11. He missed the top by seconds, but didn't make the cut. He was also the only student in 3rd grade to get so close. He was really disappointed! I wanted to lesson his pain, make excuses about the length of his legs, his age, his experience....to make him feel better. But the truth is, it only teaches him to make excuses, and being so close taught him to work harder.

A couple of months later, my husband was running a 5K, and my son wanted to do the one mile fun run before the race. Several runners used this as a warm up, allowing  my son to lead the pack in just over 7 minutes. He was hot, and tired, and stinky. But, he was proud. He decided he wanted to run the 5K with his dad. I was terrified. He was tired, just ran a really fast mile, and had never run more than a mile. My husband would be running at his own pace, so my son would be on his own. My mind was racing.

What if he didn't pace himself correctly?

What if he got dehydrated?

What if he got a cramp?

What if he needed help?

I wanted to tell him, "no". I wanted to tell him to train more and prepare for 3 miles. I wanted to protect him at my fear level. I wanted to hold him back. But I didn't.

When my husband finished the race, 7th out of 127 runners, I wanted him to go back and get our son.

Go protect him.

Go keep him safe.

But, as I looked up, there was our son coming down the hill toward the finish. He crossed the finish line in 28:08, and was 17th overall. He was tired, and red faced, and so proud. Maybe I had underestimated him. Maybe I need to stop protecting him from my fears, and let him grow.

Part 2 to come...