Sometimes We Run Fast

This past weekend, Henry and I entered ourselves in a local 5-K race. At age four and a half, Henry didn’t fully grasp the concept of exactly what a 5-K entailed. I was clued in on this fact when Henry repeatedly chanted in my face, “I’m gonna beat you when I go faster! I’m gonna beat everyone in the face!”

Whoa, wait a minute. Did my son just say he was going to beat everyone in the face? Indeed he did.

You can imagine the nerves I had leading up to the race. My son had a plan and it involved one of two things; 1) He would run really, really fast, or 2) He would run really, really fast and quite possibly give an innocent by-stander a black eye for no reason.

Here’s my little athlete on race morning.

Notice the sleek styling of his running outfit. He insisted that he wear his Superman shirt because it would make him "go real fast". In hindsight, having him dressed in such vibrant colors was a good idea, because once the race started, my little boy just took off, full-bore leaving me behind. I used his brightly colored clothes and his white tuft of hair bouncing up and down to keep track of him.

Just after we arrived at the athlete’s starting area, Henry noticed the organizers had booths of fruit, bagels and donuts set up for the racers. Instead of opting for a healthy choice, my little man double-fisted a pair of glazed donuts.

As Henry stood around with white pastry glaze stuck to a large portion of his face, he noticed some nearby racers stretching their legs out to prepare for the race. Not wanting to appear like a rookie, Henners quickly followed suit. Here, Henry does his interpretation of "Crane with Donut".


I'm not sure what this move is.

I'm REALLY not sure what this move is.


After Henry was all limbered up, he and I spent the next little bit trying to look menacing in the hopes that we would intimidate the competition with our pre-race posing.

Unfortunately for us, no one really took notice. Henry and I spent so much time trying to psyche out the competition that we never heard the starting pistol sound and didn't begin running until a good two or three minutes after the actual race had started.

The rest of the race was fairly uneventful. Unless you count the times Henners stopped mid-stride, turned around and shouted, “Hurry Mommy! You’re being too slow!” or the time he ran along side the police escort car that was flanking the racers and warned the officer, “Don't you arrest us!”

All in all, my little man did a super job in his first race. Not only did Henry run almost 2 miles on his own, he never once beat anyone in the face. My cute parents even drove all the way down and joined Jeremy and Reese to sit on the side of the road as spectators and cheer him on as he raced by. Of course, once he saw them sitting there shouting and clapping for him, he mistook them for the finish line and ran up to them and announced, “I WIN!”

Jeremy and I believe that all Henry needs now is a little guidance, more practice and a trainer/agent who is willing to take the fall in the event an unfortunate blood doping scandal surfaces.