When I told my friends and family that my wife and I were expecting, the first jokes about how soon I would have my daughter racing didn’t take long to emerge. I’ll admit that looking at the first ultrasound and hearing the heartbeat for the first time had me commenting on solid biomechanics and a calm, smooth resting heart rate. I may have even mentioned to an unsuspecting ultrasound technician that my daughter appeared to have the perfect 180-stride rate and a midfoot landing in utero. Based on her reaction, this is not a normal paternal sentiment.
Certainly, nothing would make me happier than to have my daughter take up the sport that I love and has given me so much (and based on my aforementioned pre-birth assessments, she might be great at it too). However, my desire to see my daughter take up running is based on more than the familiar wish to continue my running career vicariously and share in some memorable father-daughter races.
Running provides a much-needed antidote to many of the ills that seem to be plaguing our kids. Beyond the health benefits (which alone merit more kids spending time running), running teaches lessons that many other sports and activities seem to miss. Now that I have offended and lost the readership of all my soccer, football, field hockey, lacrosse, basketball, and tennis parents, perhaps you’ll indulge me.
Unlike most other sports, there is rarely any glory in distance running. Let’s face it; most cross-country meets draw roughly the same size crowd as a knitting circle. There are no “Friday Night Lights” or buzzer-beaters to make the highlights of the local news. SportsCenter has never once included a 10K finish in their top ten plays of the week. Nor will you see anyone wearing a hat supporting their favorite professional training group as they walk the aisles of Wegmans. This is a good thing!
Too often, our kids are motivated only by the extrinsic rewards they will receive for their efforts. Running provides a much-needed vaccine to the “what do I get” mentality. Running gives you only what you take from it. The shiny metal object placed around your neck at the end of Saturday’s 5k is no different from the person who finished behind you. You get only what you give yourself, which is often just a subtle pat on the back for doing your best. There are no cheerleaders to impress, no post game interview to conduct, just some orange slices and a bagel to split with a fellow runner.
Running teaches you to be humble. At the end of a race longer than 100 meters, you’re just too tired to showboat. The closest thing a runner will ever get to an end zone dance is the wobbly-kneed stagger to the water table. Few, if any, cross country runners have ever been penalized for taunting, and even less have developed signature gestures to acknowledge their own personal greatness. Runners simply cross the finish line, perhaps with arms raised if they are lucky enough to win, and slowly cool-down through the chute (Usain Bolt notwithstanding).
I hope that my daughter is a runner so I can cheer, and coach, and share in victories and defeats. I hope that my daughter is a runner so I can go shoe shopping with her for shoes that I am actually happy to pay for. I hope that my daughter is a runner so I can spend a unique time with her on empty roads and trails early on a weekend morning. But mostly, I hope my daughter is a runner for all the lessons and values that running will teach her in ways I know I can’t.
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