The girls first 5k (mine too)

I’m more of a spectator than participant when it comes to any sport so being asked to walk/run in a 5k on a Saturday morning would normally be met with a less than enthusiastic response. Add to that the fact that my wife wanted our two little girls to participate and well, it seemed like 2 hours of shear misery, to be honest.

My youngest step-daughter – now 5 years old – still prefers to be carried whenever she is with me. Carrying her out to the truck is one thing and I actually enjoy being able to pick her up and snuggle her close. At the rate she is growing I won’t have too much longer to scoop her up sneak some kissies on her cheek. Still, a 5k is like 3 miles and I am not sure I could carry myself that far without medical assistance.

My oldest step-daughter – now 8 years of age – is somewhat prone to laziness. While she is quite athletic, she is apt to show quick but short bursts of energy before growing bored and tired. I couldn’t imagine that she would stay entertained for however long it took to complete the race.

My thought was that maybe it would be best for my wife to participate in the event while I stayed home, made French toast and watched Sponge Bob with the girls. I obviously had Kaley’s best interest at heart as I wanted her to enjoy the race stress-free. However, she was determined that the entire family would complete the arduous 3 mile-trek. When Kaley is determined, Russell has no choice but to give in.

Literally – no choice.

I picked up our registration kits on Friday and when my 3 ladies woke up Saturday morning, I had our t-shirts all laid out with our competition numbers attached. It seemed silly to be wearing a number which would track our time as we would clearly come in last place, but I suppose we should at least give the appearance of serious athletes.

My spirits lifted somewhat when my little girls got dressed in their tennis shoes, tights and junior-size Me Strong t-shirts. Between my super-model wife and my two adorable step-daughters, I would surely have the best-looking entourage at the race. I doubted they gave an award for that but having these three beautiful gals in my life was a reward in itself.

Something I would have to keep reminding myself of over the next 2 hours.

The annual Me Strong 5k has become a pretty big event in our small town of Deland, FL. We live downtown which put the starting line an easy 10-minute walk from our front door. I was amazed at the crowds of people already on the street and you could hardly squeeze through the crowd packed around the start line. The energy from the crowd was contagious and my little girls began to get excited. Everybody in the crowd was smiling, pumped up to get a little exercise while running through a picturesque town for a good cause. In spite of myself, I began to feel optimistic about the upcoming trek.

After a well performed National Anthem the race was underway!! We waited on the sidelines as the serious runners passed by and then filtered into the crown about two-thirds back in the pack. I had already decided that the family would stay together with a steady but brisk walk. There were plenty of people walking so there was no need to pretend we were a family of track stars rather than, well, a family of people not prone to run in non-emergency situations.

Unfortunately, nobody had filled the children in on my plans.

The girls were off! Myah, ever the competitive spirit, had clearly made up her mind to log the fastest time of the day. Her little sister, however, proved to be more the athlete and quickly took the lead. It felt like poor parenting to let my children go off alone in a crowd of thousands of strangers so I dug deep and somehow found the energy to run….errr…..trot after my girls.

My wife and sister-in-law, obviously not sharing my views on sound parenting, seemed content to lag behind, walking with my niece. Ummmm…… step-niece? Niece once removed?

One of the hardest things about being a step-dad is understanding the proper labels for all your new relatives.

Google says she is simply my niece.

Huh.

Anywho, I was running about as fast as I could, trying to keep up with my two step-daughters who possessed a fleetness of foot of which I was previously unaware. They had obviously been involved in some athletic training in preparation for the 5k and I was wondering how long I could keep up. The fact that we had traveled a mere 200 yards and I was already considering ducking into one of the neighborhood restaurants to fuel my body did not fill me with confidence that I could keep up for 3 miles. Luckily, just when I thought all was lost, they stopped to catch their breath.

I had just walked up beside them and said, “Let’s wait for mommy….” and they were off again, faster than before! I glanced over my shoulder, sure my wife was there ready to take her turn, but help was nowhere in sight. With a sigh and a quick check of my pulse I began to once again chase my laughing little girls.

I discovered they were sprinters and not really long-distance runners. They were content to sprint for about 200 yards and then take a few breaths and then sprint again. I wished they would take a little longer break between flights but at least we covering a lot of ground in a hurry. At this pace, I felt sure we would come in well under the 45 minutes Google claimed was the average time for a 5k.

We left downtown and entered scenic Stetson University. A quick trip around the Campus and we would be done. This wasn’t near as bad as I had feared. I was breathing hard and I could tell my girls were slowing down. It seemed like a good time for a quick break and then a burst to the finish line.

Myah and Sonya had other ideas as they dug deep for one more sprint. Somehow, I found the strength to follow. As we rounded a corner there was a digital clock displaying the elapsed time. 16 minutes! Not bad, I told myself.

“Look girls! We’re halfway!” I shouted at them.

About 200 people turned to me at once and said in unision, “That’s the 1 mile mark.”

Most of the 200 people were laughing at me.

Sonya asked, “What does 1 mile mean?”

“Well, honey,” I explained. “Basically, it means that we have to do what we just did two more times.”

“What?!?!” Myah screeched.

“I want to go home,” demanded Sonya.

“I’m tiiiiiiiired,” whined Myah.

“I wish we had never come,” Sonya informed me.

“My legs hurt,” cried Myah, the tears forming in her eyes.

Then came the inevitable, “Pick me up!” from Sonya.

I shouldn’t have been shocked, but I was. How could things have gone from “time of our lives” to “I wish I had never been born” in the blink of an eye? My little wilted flowers were starting to hold up the runners so I scooted them out of the road and took a second to regroup.

What to do? The easiest choice was to scoop up Sonya and just walk her and Myah back to my house. I had already donated money to the fine organization sponsoring the race and that was the important part. I could plop my two whiners down in front of the TV and have all my Saturday morning chores done before my wife got home. Sounded like a good plan to me.

Still, looking at the two pouting children in front of me, it seemed that teaching them it was ok to quit less than 1/3 of the way through what should be a pretty easy walk was not the right life lesson for the day. Especially when we were walking in support of those who battle cancer, something infinitely harder and more courageous than walking a few miles.

Well, sometimes parenting isn’t about being the nice guy.

“Let’s go, girls! Two miles to go!” I said in my peppiest voice.

“Pick me up,” Sonya pleaded in her saddest little girl voice.

I steeled myself against her powers and told her, “No. We came to walk this entire race and that’s what we’re gonna do. Let’s go!” and I started walking away at a rapid pace.

They didn’t fall in a ditch and die. They started walking after me. They whined. They cried. They complained. It was the worst day of their entire lives and somehow, I was totally to blame for it.

During the second mile Kaley caught up with us and thankfully the girls directed their complaints at her for a while. By the beginning of the third mile they actually started having fun again thanks to all the people lining the streets cheering us on. Their enthusiasm made it impossible to be in a bad mood.

And a big shout-out to Chick-fil-A who sent their cow to give out free prizes. Kids love them some chicken nuggets and taking a 5 minute break to play with the cow totally re-energized the girls for the home stretch.

We finished in just over an hour a long way from first place, but we weren’t last either. We gave a little money to a great cause and got a smidgeon of exercise in the process. Most importantly, the girls had a great time. We overcame their whining and desire to quit by pushing through and finishing, actually having fun in the process.

I would like to say it was a major breakthrough in their lives. It wasn’t. They still get bored easily. They still whine when something doesn’t go their way or isn’t the most fun thing ever in the history of the world. However, I suppose that is what they are supposed to do at 5 and 8 years old. What I am supposed to do as a step-dad is teach them to push through, to always finish and to try their very best.

Except I really want to whine, throw in the towel and veg out on the couch, too.

Nobody said it was easy.