Living Vicariously—Not

The loneliness of the long distance runner. Ephraim en-route to winning his 8th grade cross-country district meet.

Once upon a time, when I was young, my weight where it should be, my knees good, and I didn’t know I had an abnormal heart valve, I played football and ran track in high school. Not in junior high. The only team sports they had were basketball, baseball, and swimming. I was no good at those, so I didn’t play jr. high sports.

I did three years of football, two years of outdoor track, and one year of indoor track. Sophomore year I ran the mile. Junior year I dropped down to the half-mile. That was probably a mistake, and I wish the coach had advised me differently. I had endurance but not a lot of speed. If I was going to change distances, I would have been better in the two-mile. But that’s all in the past.

On a 1600 m run, freshman year.

My oldest grandson, Ephraim, is now running track. He does cross-country and outdoor track. In track, he runs the 1600 meter and 2400 meter. Well, that was in junior high. I imagine it’s the 1600 and 3200 in high school. He’s been running since seventh grade, slowly improving. We’ve been able to drive to see him run a few times, when they coincided with trips for other reasons.

When the family was here visiting over Thanksgiving, Ephraim said he wanted to run in the early mornings. I woke him the first day at 6:00 a.m., as he requested. We were outside the house by 6:15, and it was still dark, with some light showing in the east. I slowed him down, insisting he wait a little until there was enough light that cars could see him. He did about 1.5 miles that morning.

The sprint to the finish. Ephraim passed the kid on the right to take a higher finish in a cross-country meet.

The next day it was below 30° at wake-up time. I woke him, but recommended he run later. He decided he would do a time mile around 11 a.m. or so. I drove him into town, bought him some spikes, then we went to the public track. He warmed up and ran, with me calling out his lap splits. He finished the mile in 5:33, equaling his best time. Two days later, after Thanksgiving, we did it again. This time he did the mile in 5:27. I told him that my best time sophomore year was 5:15, so I still had him beat.

With his teammate from the girls’ team, after their boys-girls sweep of the cross-country district finals in 8th grade.

A couple of days ago, I got a text from Ephraim, saying he had just done a mile in 5:16 or 5:17. He then wrote, “I’m closing in on you time.” I told him he was actually ahead of me, because I did my 5:15 late in my sophomore outdoor track season, probably in May. So he did his time five months earlier than me, in the off season, in a practice run, not in competition. I said he would surely be well below my best this year. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were sub-5:00 for the mile before the season is over.

It’s been good to follow Ephraim’s progress as a runner. He’s obviously better than I was. I want to make sure, however, that I support him, not push him. If he wants to get better, I want to support him. If he were to say track wasn’t his thing and quit it, I would support him. I’m here to encourage and motivate him to be the best he can be, in whatever he does.

So I’m not here to live vicariously through him, but it’s a pleasure watching him develop as a runner.

2 thoughts on “Living Vicariously—Not”

  1. Loved this. I hope to have grandkids someday; I think it sounds lovely to see them develop their interests, and what fun it would be to have them interested in something you enjoyed years ago too. I love that you remember your mile time! Then again, things like that from our youths are often etched firmly in our minds.

    1. Hi Susan. Thanks for reading and commenting. I suppose it’s a fine line between enjoying and supporting vs pushing and demanding. I hope I’m on the right side of that line.

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