Weekend at the Races

I had been sitting in the bleachers for hours. This sounds like the beginning of a story of misery, but it was actually quite pleasant. I had brought the stadium seat my husband had recently purchased, and I was surprised at how comfortable it was. After freezing in this same location the night before, the morning provided bright, cheerful sunshine that kept me sufficiently warm. The stadium was surrounded by green hills and a bright blue canopy hung overhead. It was a lovely and relaxing way to spend a Saturday morning.

On the field below, high school students were warming up as runners raced around the track. Today's events were starting with the 1600 meters; girls first, then boys. There were 26 heats for the girls, and my son was running in the 16th heat of the boys' races, which was why I was spending a large amount of time in the stands. I didn't mind. It was a beautiful day, the air was full of energy, and the races were exciting to watch. You couldn't help but cheer for kids you didn't even know as they poured everything they had into making it across the finish line as fast as they could.

My son's race, of course, was the one I was most interested in. 

"What's your goal for this race?" I had asked him.

"Sub 5:20," he responded.

Finally, it was getting close to his race time. I scanned the field, looking for him, and panicked when I didn't see him anywhere. What if he missed his race? I tried to assure myself that wouldn't happen, but time was ticking away and still I didn't see him. At what seemed like the last possible second, as the runners in heat 14 were well into their race, I saw him and a couple of his teammates casually sauntering across the field, their racing spikes in hand. "Hurry up," I wanted to tell him, but there would be no way for him to hear me and all that it would accomplish would be to irritate the spectators around me. So, I silently willed him to get a move on. Miraculously (or maybe he really did know what he was doing), he was ready to go and lined up when he needed to be.

All morning I had been debating whether to stay in my seat for the race or move down to the observation area on the track. If I stayed where I was, I would be able to get a better view of the whole race, which I was going to video for my husband who couldn't be there. The only problem was I wouldn't be able to yell encouragement to my son as he ran by. Most of the time, he says he doesn't hear me, but I somehow felt that I would be failing as a mother if I didn't at least try. Everyone needs a cheerleader. I grabbed my backpack and made my way down to the track.

"Pop!" The starting pistol fired and thirty runners took off. I could see Jack as he rounded the bend of the track. There was unusual movement, and I knew intuitively that someone had fallen. My heart sank. "Oh no! Don't let it be my baby," I whispered to the running gods, as I frantically scanned the runners who were now on the far side of the track. I rejoiced when I saw my boy, still running.

The tight pack of runners rounded the other end of the track and began thundering toward us. Still clutching my camera, I looked for my son. "Go, Jack!" I yelled as he ran by. I strained to see him as they rounded the bend once again. I resumed my prayers to the running gods: "Please let him do well, please let him do well." I was whispering the words out loud, and I was certain that if anyone heard me, they would think I was a lunatic. I didn't care. All that mattered was that my son had a good race.

The pack thundered by again. "You got this, Jack!" I yelled. Maybe he heard me, maybe he didn't. He was clearly in a zone.

By the time they were barreling toward the finish line, Jack had moved up. There were now way more runners behind him than in front of him. Tears filled my eyes as I watched my boy cross the finish line in sixth place. He had accomplished his goal, completing the race in 5 minutes and 17 seconds.

My mind flashed on several articles I had read recently about people who didn't want to have children or were so happy that they never did. That may be the right choice for them, but it wouldn't have been for me. In that moment, I knew that there was nothing that I could ever do in life that would fill me with as much pride and gratitude as being a mother watching her child working hard and achieving what he had set out to accomplish.