Run the Race

This weekend concluded our track season.  It was the SCMAV finals.  Basically, Jonathan placed first in our school district for the relay, 100, and 200.  At the valley meet, he placed second in all of his events.

Yesterday's meet was to determine if he was going to state.  It was a hot day.  It was a long day, and he didn't fare as well as he had hoped.  In the first heat he came in third, which was okay for him. He was used to being near the top.  Two hours later in the finals. . .the race finished so close they had to review the tapes and Jonathan did not like the outcome.  In his mind he had finished third, but they called it a sixth place finish. The boys came in with a tenth of a second between them.  It was that close!  The injustice of it was written all over his face.  He was not happy and he was not allowed off the field as he still had another race to run--a longer one.

I watched from the side, then I tried to get close to talk to him through a gate, but it was useless.  He was mad and he couldn't see me.  I wanted this for him, because he wanted it.  But truth be told, he didn't want it that bad.  He wasn't training for it at home or doing any extra running besides what took place on the playground during school hours.  And that's okay.  But it was hard looking at his disappointed face.  I prayed him through it from afar and hoped his poor attitude would disappear.  That he would appreciate the fact that he had come this far.  That was an accomplishment in and of itself!

God was good, and Jonathan came out to use the restroom and put down his ribbon.  He was still mad.  I could tell.  But I had a moment with him alone and said, "Did you do your best?"  With downcast eyes he muttered, "yes." "Then that's all that matters.  Try having fun out there, son."    He trotted off with a little more of a bounce in his step, and not so sullen.

The minutes sitting in the hot sun wore on, and his uncle, aunt, and cousins showed up.  There was no way to tell him he had an audience as he was on the field.  The gun blasted and he ran.  And he came in last place.  He honestly didn't look like the same kid out there.  His effort was slim to none, and he was enveloped between boys so much taller than him you had to wonder, are they really only ten?  I was nervous walking over to him after.  I couldn't bear to see him downcast and sullen as his family looked on and had come such a far distance to watch him. I didn't want him not to appreciate their presence. I didn't want him making excuses or angry. My stomach was in knots as I wondered what one uncle would say as his bluntness and sarcasm can be a little much on my little softies heart.  But I need not have worried.  My son pranced off the field, relief written all over his face. He exhaled as I embraced him saying, "Geeze, I'm sure glad that's over!"  Before bursting into a grin.  He started talking fast, "I don't think dad's technique worked. I decided to just try it and I think it slowed me down instead of speeding me up."  I laughed.

And then we found our family.  And everyone voiced what I had been thinking before. . .do these kids have to show birth certificates?  They are giants!  There was laughter and then some good natured races between them across school grounds.  All in good fun!

There was more laughter.  It's as if the losses were already forgotten.  He got further than he did the year before and that was enough.  It's funny because we always thought Jonathan would be part of a team, but God has other plans and we're filled with hope that there's a future in running.  With some training and time, he will continue to race and have fun with it (we hope).  The losses will still come, but hopefully he will learn how to deal with the disappointment and always try his best.  We are very proud of his accomplishment this year on the track field.  Win or lose, how he walked off the track that second time, made my mama heart soar.