the hyphens that define my life

A Losing Race July 24, 2013

Filed under: Life — multihyphenatedme @ 10:41 pm
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On your mark.  Get set.  Go!

Running as fast as possible, I know I’m aging and slowing down when I can not beat them in a 50 m foot race.   The kids are getting older and stronger as I get older and weaker.  I can easily mow down my 9 and 7-year-old, though they are squirrely.  They don’t run straight and I usually trip over them and fall down or step on them after they fall down.  My 18-year-old daughter is capable of lapping me before I cross the line, as she runs as effortlessly as a thoroughbred horse, the freak.  When we run together, she runs backwards and talks to me while I chug along. [frustrating!]  I release her from the torture and she sprints off.  We text a meeting place and she runs backwards and chats the rest of the way home.  Yes, in case you’re wondering, I am proudly capable of texting and a very slow jog.

Tonight I raced my 12-year-old and nearly caught him in the end.  Sure he just had a strong hour and a half soccer practice in 95 degree heat.  Maybe he was tired, but I’ve got 32 years on him and a few extra pounds AND I didn’t even warm up or stretch before hand.  It’s a wonder I didn’t hurt myself.

Not catching him, not passing him I should say, has motivated me to wake up earlier tomorrow, lace up my shoes and get running.   There is most likely no chance that I’ll ever catch up to him.  That’s ok.  Knowing his mom is hot on his heals is motivation enough for HIM to run faster.  Let’s call it strategy, I may be helping him run faster but I’m running a losing race against him..

He has grown past my running level.  He has outgrown my swimming abilities too.  We were at Lake Coeur D’Alene this past weekend.  We play a swimming game where someone throws a volleyball as far into the lake as possible and two swimmers have to swim to the ball and swim back with the ball to be declared winner.  I prefer to race the younger two because I have a chance.  My husband and 12-year-old are strong swimmers.  Swimming isn’t my favorite event, in fact it is my worst event.  I’m a lounge on a raft, sit on the beach, read a book kinda gal.  I love being in the water, just where I can touch and nothing is touching me with simple floats and easy, non-race, above and underwater, swims.

On Sunday, my 12-year-old challenged me to a swim race.  Apparently he needed the ego boost.  I accepted the challenge.  I won the first race only because I was clearly losing so I pulled down his pants and gained the lead.  You’re officially forewarned if we’re ever swim racing together, I swim to win.  He called foul for some unknown reason and we had to race again.  He kept his distance and claimed victory.  I claimed exhaustion only recoverable by lounging and reading.  [insert husband eye roll here]

My kids have been disappointed when I return from a 5K to learn that I didn’t “win” the race.  With running, I’m not trying to win the race against others, I only try to win the race against myself and my issues.  Unless, of course, I’m racing against my kids then, issues aside,  I leave it all on the track.  [insert laugh track here].


A rain check has been issued on our 13th anniversary.  Our day got away from us and we had workers in the house until 8 PM.  Yesterdays’ post is “to be continued”.




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