little girl, big girl
I had a Robert Frost “two roads diverged” moment this week-end.
‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood”
Well, I actually didn’t stand that long because it was cold as crap on Saturday.
Here’s what happened … I had signed myself up for a 9-mile race (to begin at 9:00am) and my daughter was to run the 5k race on her own at 10:00am - after I was already on the trail. Stupidly, I didn’t allow for enough time, got lost, and ended up screaming at my kid in the car on the way to the race. Four minutes before the 9-mile start, I frantically laced up my shoes, pinned my race number on - crooked, squatted to pee (in nearly full view) by my car, then sprinted to the start-line without attending to my daughter or the needs of her race. I just left her standing there beside the car.
On the line, as everyone was bobbing up and down to stay warm, blowing on their hands, stripping off their sweats, etc. … I half-heartedly participated in all the last-minute rituals. I looked around to check out who my competition was, chatted nervously like I’ve done in countless races over the last 25 years. It was no different. I would have run hard and stayed focused and beat everyone I was supposed to beat. I would have done my running job well. It was no different … but I was different.
I was here with my daughter! I had signed my sweetie up for her first 5k trail race so I could share my love of the trails with her, yet I left her alone in a parking lot after having just screamed at her in the car. I turned to my friend, Julee, and said, “I think I’m going to switch to the 5k and run with my daughter.”
Julee, also a mom, didn’t miss a beat, “You should do what you need to do. How old is your daughter?”
“Twelve,” I said.
“She’ll be fine by herself.”
“I know … but I won’t.”
I ran back to the car. My girl was still standing there - in her striped winter cap and gloves, with her number pinned on (crooked) to an old sweatshirt of mine. She looked so much younger than she did just four minutes ago. She looked like she still needed her mom.
“Why’d you come back?” she asked.
“I wanted to run with you.”
“Oh, good.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“It’s okay; you were nervous about your race.”
“That’s no excuse,” I declared … then said, “Its freezing; let’s go see if they have any hot coffee.”
They did! And some cocoa too… which made me smile when I saw the faintest hint of a chocolate mustache on my little girl/big girl’s face.
When will she be too old for me to wipe it off?
***
Lyrics to Turn Around,
as sung by Nancy Griffith
Where are you goin’ my little one, little one?
Where are you goin’ my baby my own?
Turn around and you’re two
Turn around and you’re four
Turn around and you’re a young girl
Going out of the doorTurn around
Turn around
Turn around and you’re a young girl
Going out of the doorWhere are you goin’ my little one, little one?
Little Dirndles and petticoats, where have you gone?
Turn around and you’re tiny
Turn around and you’re grown
Turn around and you’re a young wife
With babes of your ownTurn around
Turn around
Turn around and you’re a young wife
With babes of your ownWhere are you goin’ my little one, little one?
Where are you goin’ my baby my own?
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What a sweet story. You made the right choice. I just turned 20 this year, and I am still very close to my mom. Your story really made me smile…I’m going to go call my mom now.
Comment by Sara — 1/15/2006 @ 7:47 pm
You just made me really happy, Sara.
I hope when my Sarah’s 20 she’ll want to call me!
Thank you for your comment.
-joan
Comment by Joan — 1/15/2006 @ 8:48 pm
The right move, I am sure it was a good run for both of you thereafter….
Comment by Steve Sherlock — 1/15/2006 @ 10:19 pm
Thanks for sharing–definitely the right choice. She will remember that forever.
Comment by susan — 1/16/2006 @ 5:47 am
I agree with the other comments, you made the right choice. I’m glad you apologized for yelling at Sarah.
Comment by Mike Mabe — 1/16/2006 @ 8:30 am
As a mom, I’ve been in your situation and I know I would be consumed with guilt and worries if I’d chosen to do the 9-mile race. Not the kind of mental fuel that makes for a ‘winning’ performance. You did the right thing.
Comment by Anne — 1/16/2006 @ 5:49 pm
Dammit! You are such a good writer!
Comment by Julee Waldrop — 1/17/2006 @ 8:22 am
That’s a great story. Thanks for your honesty
Comment by Paige — 1/17/2006 @ 10:57 am
Joan,
Your story was touching and delightful!I was pointed your way today by your dear father-in-law.I have added your page to my favorite places.I love both the “human side” and running perspective in your blog.I wish you would write something on a subject that has always intrigued me.What is the ultimate capacity of a human being to set new records in a running event? It is unbelievable to me the “newness” of record-breaking performances especially in short distances all the way down to 100 meters. If you have already written on this subject, I would love to know. By the way, for a few laughs try http://www.deaconland.blogspot.com
Tim Browder
Comment by Tim Browder — 1/17/2006 @ 12:37 pm
I would like to say that this is the reason that, as a race director, a 10 minute delay (for the 9ers)is imperative. But, golly, there’s nothing sweeter than this.
I’ve spent many miles on the same course as Duncan, and only on occasion have I caught glimpses of him. I was able to shadow him when he was twelve; then, several seasons later I watched him “hi 5″ a buddy of his as he was returning from a second lap and we were beginning - that hit me…he was thinking beyond himself.
We catch fleeting glimpses of our children thoughout, I believe, many of life’s phases. This evening, Natalie’s butterfly in the meet vs. East was a blur to me - but I’ll revisit it many times.
..and as I sifted through the results of Saturday’s race, I encountered:
Sarah Jane: winning her age group at 29:34
Joan “Gwinter”: winning her age group at 29:35
…and, looking for them at the awards, with the low ceiling howling behind me and the temps plummeting, I said to myself…what at day for PRs!
…and it was…
Comment by squonk — 1/18/2006 @ 7:43 pm
This is a wonderful story
They grow up so fast cherish every moment
Comment by Fred — 1/19/2006 @ 8:34 pm
As runners, we inspire our children in many ways, but we must always remember to let them know that they come first in our lives. Compassionate and sweet–Joan sounds like a wonderful mother. Thanks for your story, Stephanie
Comment by stephanie — 1/19/2006 @ 9:29 pm
Reminds me of a story about a guy giving a speach at a college. His 3 year old son is with him. The son keeps leaving the Assistant who is watching him and running up to dad on stage. The speaker, reaches down, picks him up and places him on the lecturen and resumes the speach. Years latter people tell the speaker, they were there, they do not remember the speach, but the do remember the impact of that event. The same will be said of you switching races!! We all need to be reminded of what is right from time to time!
Comment by George — 1/20/2006 @ 12:56 am
I cheesed out on your piece from Little River. Loved it!
What was also neat was reading all the comments. Seems like different parts of your experience spoke to people at various stages of parenthood.
For me, “When will she be too old for me to wipe it off?” makes me grin because Addie (my 2 year old) and I LOVE LOVE LOVE sharing donuts ANYTIME ANYWHERE. Together, we get our face full of crumbs and just laugh and laugh with each other.
My wife says it’s sad how fast they grow up. While a part of me feels this sadness I wonder why is it sad? I’ve never adequately answered that question.
Okay,
Tweak
Comment by Tweak — 1/31/2006 @ 10:45 am
As for the sadness, I used to think it was the palpable reality of mortality … but its not that.
Its more the pain of loving so much and so up close and knowing that physical up-close time is speeding by ; it will change to a different kind of closeness (like I have with sarah jane). For me, the sadness comes from both celebrating and grieving the changes. Don’t you think the deepest human experiences are steeped in paradox?!
-joan (trailhead name:”Gwinter”)
Comment by Joan — 1/31/2006 @ 10:48 am
Thank you for sharing this story Joan. Wonderful mom moment.
I haven’t visited your site since last Jane season - I have quite a bit to catch up on!
See you soon-
Bethany
Comment by Bethany — 2/7/2006 @ 10:45 am
God bless you, Joan! You WILL always feel good about going back to be with your daughter. Great Decision!
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