Last night I had the pleasure of attending my nine-year-old daughters third cross county meet. Anyone who knows me, knows that for a person to choose to run long distances is simply all encompassing insanity as far as I am concerned. Loving the sport of Track and Field, I have routinely attempted to guide her in that direction… the direction of the field sports like short distance sprints, long jump, and maybe even a level surfaced track race like the mile, if she so desired a bit of pain and punishment… but come on, cross country? A sport where you brutally punish your body for enjoyment, running over all sorts of terrain and have I mentioned huge mountainous hills? I just don’t understand. Never- the -less She has chosen to embark upon this journey and my wife and I are committed to support her in any way possible as she finds her way.

I will admit, although not truly understanding, the sport has begun growing on me and I find myself shouting encouraging words, while holding back the proverbial laughter, pinned up deep inside as I watch these children painfully complete the course, joyfully falling to the ground in exhaustion. Have I mentioned all encompassing insanity? So there we were, after walking the seemingly fifty million miles over hills and through valleys to the start and finish line to watch our little bundle of joy compete.

Then our nightmare reached a new level as it took on a horrid twist, like punishing blows from the cross country demons descending upon us like a flock of rabid pigeon’s seeking out anything to destroy … our youngest child voiced her intent of joining the cross country team next year. Looking intently into each other’s weary eyes, my wife and I could not find the words other than confusion laced support as with our reaction to her sister’s initial plea for inclusion.

As the events began and the runners began the process of preparing for their race the meet transitioned outside the realm of sporting event spectator into a process of containing our youngest child as she was intent upon running with the athletes as they competed. Her mother and my repeated plea’s of remaining alongside us seemingly landed on deaf ears as she, without a doubt, strategized about how she could slip our watchful eyes and engage the other athletes proving to her older sister that she truly was the dominant sibling.

This was when we experienced an all-powerful, all knowing, mom and dad moment. As our attempts to round up the child became wearisome the thought of what the child wanted to do became the foundation by which if; we artfully committed, we may not only contain the child so we could enjoy the event but possibly even change her future aspirations of cross country stardom. Describing to the child that she could begin her training we located a nice little, steep incline where we directed her to run up and down several times as we timed her. Initially she was rather jazzed about the opportunity to show the mass of spectators her skills, those feelings of elation quickly subsided and she quietly assumed a position of watchful glee along side her mother and I.

The race came to an end, Lilli did great; 54^th out of 125. Riy remained hopeful, and mom and I began the journey back to the car parked somewhere along the horizon. The entire experience was rather fun. We joke but truly had a grand time watching and speaking to the other parents, some cross-country buffs, and many just as confused as we were. The lessons learned were simple. Having a willingness to try new things and then sticking with it when it becomes way more work then we anticipated is essential to success. Almost as essential as putting aside our own misgivings and supporting those we love, putting on the smile, and doing everything in our power to help them exceed expectations.