My one memory of childhood athletics was drawing flowers in the dirt when I was supposed to be playing outfield. Well, there are also all of those memories of failing different aspects of the President’s physical fitness test each year. Mathletes never fare well on feats of strength.
Wanting the boys to enjoy exercise, knowing how helpful it has been in helping their Daddy stay sane, and seeing the effects it has on their well-being, I have become an enthusiast for vigorous exercise for all.
The boys ran their first mile this year, got speed bikes this year, and learned to swim this year. Sound like any event you know?
That’s right – they participated in their first triathlon this Saturday. They didn’t win, but they had the largest fan club. My mom flew in from Virginia. Jeff and I were there. And four friends drove up to see the boys do their thing.
I cried when they took off in the water. Kids from five to seventeen spending their Saturday morning pushing their bodies as hard as they could for anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes. Little girls on pink bikes with training wheels. Ripped twelve year olds with fancy bikes. And in there, in the middle of them, were Zach and Ezra.
They were both nervous before the race began. At one point, I thought Ezra might not do it he was so scared. The boys held hands all the way from the transition area to the beach, where they swam 100 yards. As competitive as they are with each other, they were holding hands. Sweet, sweet, sweet.
They had a few hiccups. Like forgetting to take off their helmets before the run and being sent back to put them down with their bikes. But overall, they were psyched, and kept asking when they could do another one.
Like I said, they didn’t win, or even come close to winning. But they see themselves as athletes, and I couldn’t be happier.
Now if I could just find a way to make being a mathlete look just as cool…