And the winner is…

OP* ran her very first 1 mile race. At 4 years old, she was one of the youngest, but there were a couple other 4 year olds there. Originally, we signed her up for the 200m version, but she refused. She wanted to do the long one. She’s her daddy.

I’m doomed….

I ran the race with her. One, because we weren’t sure if she’d make it back in time for Daddy’s race and he didn’t want to miss it. Two, because she asked and I’m a sucker.

We started at the word go and she quickly sped to last place. Sort of shambled, really. Shambled with effort. Then we started to lose the pack. By about 1/4 mile in she became upset because she was going to be last. Fortunately, at that point, we passed a boy about her age who had decided he was done with the race. As we ran and walked, I told her that it didn’t matter if she was last, because being last meant that she still did it and didn’t give up. I pointed out that she was beating that little boy because he gave up.

She stayed last. Apparently, she has my running DNA. According to results, she was over 2 minutes behind the person in front of her (although she crossed just behind a little girl who was either a ninja and sneaked over the timer line or cheated). Fortunately it didn’t matter to her. She had done it by herself, step after step without anyone carrying her. And that is what is important. Sometimes, we need to be reminded of that.

*For those new to the blog, OP stands for Optimus Prime which is what we called our daughter in the womb.

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