A Final Race and a Conference Championship

Yesterday, the Harpeth Valley Athletic Conference Middle School Cross Country Championship races were run at USN's River Campus on a beautiful fall afternoon.  

It was the kind of day that makes you happy to live in middle Tennessee.  Blue sky, slight wind, temperatures in the high 60's or low 70's.  A perfect fall afternoon in Nashville.

I was more nervous than usual leading up to the race and I didn't sleep well Wednesday night.  Why?  I thought a lot about that and I think it's because I knew how much it would mean to JP to run the table this season and not lose a race.  I also knew that it bothered JP to have lost the HVAC championship last year to his teammate, Cade, who outkicked him at the end of the race, also at USN's River Campus.

I didn't want JP to finish second in the HVAC cross country championship two years in a row.  I wanted him to run well in the biggest race of the season.  

And you know what?  That's exactly what he did.  

JP ran with the heart of a lion, won the HVAC individual championship, and MBA won the team championship, as well, over USN. 

We talked the night before the race and JP acknowledged being a little nervous.  I encouraged him to treat the conference championship like any other race and not to put any additional pressure on himself.  He nodded his head while we talked so I think he understood me, although it's tough sometimes to tell with JP, because he's a quiet kid.

I bolted out of a mediation at 3:40 p.m. and fought traffic to get to the race, there being no easy way to get to USN's River Campus from deep in the heart of Franklin, where my office is located.  I arrived right before the middle school girls' race started, set down my cooler w/JP's after-race water/Gatorade, and walked down to picnic shelter where MBA's team always sets up shop.

I found JP sitting on a picnic table amongst his teammates and, as is our custom, he walked over and we nodded and fist bumped each other. 

"Have fun today," I said.  "Just another race."  He nodded, then I walked back toward the start line, leaving him alone with his prerace thoughts and to share a final few moments with his teammates.  They feed off him, I think, and gain confidence in their knowledge that he's their leader.  They know he's going to run up front and push himself to the limit in every race.  That means something to them, I believe.

JP led from the start, with his USN rival, Jack, five yards or so behind him at the half mile mark.  I ran across the parking lot to catch the leaders near the one mile mark.  JP had stretched his lead to about 10 yards there and looked good but Jack was still closer to him that I had hoped he would be.  Truthfully, Cade's finishing kick on the home stretch in last year's championship race was fresh in my mind so I wanted JP to put some distance between himself and Jack.  

Every cross country race has a segment that feels like the dark side of the moon - to me, anyway.  It's where the runners are out of sight.  Seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours as you wait for a glimpse of the leaders in the distance.  At USN's course, it's the back stretch, just after the one mile mark, where you lose sight of the runners.

I trotted around to the back of the tennis courts and walked up to the top of the bleachers, looking out over the course, straining to get a glimpse of the John Deere Gator that drives ahead of the leaders, showing them the way.  Finally, I saw it!  JP was in the lead, comfortably ahead of Jack, but not in a race ending way, at least not yet.

I climbed down from the bleachers and waited by myself at about the one and a half mile mark, on the last straightaway before the turn that marks the home stretch.  Suddenly, I saw the Gator drive out of the trees with JP running close behind it.  Then, Jack followed, probably 20 or 30 yards behind JP.  JP was running strong and I cheered for him as he passed by me, secure in the knowledge that barring something disastrous happening, he was going to win the conference championship.

I ran over the finish line and waited for JP to round the final turn on the outside of USN's track and head for the finish line.  A couple of children scattered off the course as the Gator made the final turn.  Then, I saw JP, and realized he was racing himself and the clock, not Jack.  

"Push!  All the way through" I yelled as he ran by me.  Smooth, not struggling, but obviously exerting himself.  

He crossed the finish line in 10:37, another PR for him (by 3 seconds) for two miles.  I ran to the of the chute and, as is also our custom after a particularly hard race, he put his arm around me and leaned into me, rambling incoherently for a moment or two as he came back to himself.  He had taken his shirt off and he asked me to hold it, as we walked away from the group and he drank the water I had brought for him.

For me, that's the moment, the one that I'll remember above all others.  To be with JP when he's not back yet, when he's run so hard he can't talk and can't stand on his own, that's the moment.  For him to share that moment with me - to rely on me for strength in that moment - that's what being a father, to me is all about.  It's when I feel the closest to him, I think.

The moment passed quickly, as it does, as he said, "I'm okay, now."  He put his shirt back on and walked back to the finish line to accept congratulations from parents, teammates, and other runners, and to cheer on the other MBA runners as they finished the race.

Afterwards, at the awards ceremony, I watched with price as JP accepted the first place medal and as MBA won the team conference championship.  What a season!

JP was 6 - 0 and ran faster every race for the last three races.  MBA's middle school cross country team finished the season 6 - 0, too.

The other coaches enlisted me to distract the head coach, Elijah Reynolds, so JP and Abe could pour a celebratory cooler of water on him.  I, of course, got soaked in the process, but I didn't care a bit, nor did Coach Reynolds.  

Quite a finish to quite a cross country season.

Proud family with the individual conference champion.

Awards ceremony after the race.

Abe, Wynn, and JP.

Harpeth Valley Athletic Conference Champions.

JP holding the conference championship trophy after winning the individual title, covering two miles in 10:37, a PR for him.  He ran the first mile in 5:10.

Another PR for the Kid

Yesterday at Vaughn's Creek, JP won his fifth cross country race of the season, covering the two mile course in 10:40, another personal record for him.  His MBA middle school team won the meet with a perfect score of 15 after sweeping the top 5 spots in the race.  

USN was hosting a race at the River Campus - the site of next week's HVAC championship race - so the competition for JP and the team wasn't what it had been at previous races.  Still, it was an impressive showing.  

JP started strong and ran a blistering first mile.  I timed him at 5:12 or so and was thinking he had a chance to break 10:30 for two miles, which is a goal I've had for him all year.  Although it was a beautiful day to run with temperatures finally dropping a bit, he had a headwind on the back side of the course and slowed just a bit in the last mile.  He was running alone, too, as his good friend and teammate, Abe, was over a minute back in second place.

It's interesting but I think JP expects to win the races at this point, not in an arrogant way but because he has put in the work and he has seen the competition in multiple races.  It will be interesting to see how he does in the HVAC championship next week and in the regional cross country meet, when he will see runner he hasn't raced against before.  

It's been a good and memorable cross country season for him - and Jude, Joe, and me, too, watching him compete.     

A Run in the Woods

It's been an inconsistent and disappointing year for me as a runner in a lot of ways.  In early January, I set a specific mileage goal that a myriad of ailments and injuries - including a bout w/Covid-19 in late January/early February - that quickly became unattainable.  I also set a goal of running long more often. That didn't happen either.

I've still run, of course, just not as much as I had planned.  I'm not sure how I would survive if I didn't run to be honest.  It's how I see myself and it's such an important part of who I am as a person.  I've had pockets of consistent running this year and a some good, memorable runs, for which I'm grateful.  Yesterday, in fact, was one of those kind of runs.

Friday night, I suggested to JP that we get up, early, and go for a run on the trails at Shelby Bottoms.  He agreed and I went to bed after a long and emotionally taxing week at work with that plan in mind.  As happens sometimes, though, I woke up a little after 7 a.m. Saturday morning, tired, and thought, maybe I'll sleep in after all.  As I lay in bed, however, I heard JP bumping around upstairs, so I knew he was up, and ready to go.

Sure enough, I got up, put on my running gear, and when I walked into the living room, there he was, waiting, like a running specter, though not an unpleasant or scary one.  Just expectant, waiting, motivating me to get up and get moving.  We talked quietly, stretched, filled a couple of Yeti cups w/ice water, and off we went to Shelby Bottoms.

When we arrived at the tennis courts at the entrance to Shelby Park - converted before our eyes to pickle balls courts, which is another story entirely - and got out of my truck.  It was a beautiful end of summer/beginning of all morning with the temperature in the low '60's, perfect for running.  Perfect for running long, actually.  

Musically, I put on the Drive-By Truckers, one of my favorite bands now and from way back, and off we went down the wooded trail that leads to the paved trail around the lake in Shelby Park.  Almost immediately, JP said "whoa!"  I looked up and saw a large, white tailed deer on the trail 25 yards ahead of us, bounding away into the woods.  Trail running, right?

As we approached the railroad bridge and the first trailhead at Shelby Bottoms that would take us off the greenway, we encountered the back end of a 5k race to raise money for sickle cell anemia.  I would love to see JP race a 5k but that's for another day.  It was good to see so many people out early, running and walking, particularly people of color.  

We stayed on the grass trail and off the greenway for the vast majority of the run, which is my preference when I run at Shelby Bottoms.  I love the change of pace of trail running and I think JP does, too.  At Shelby Bottoms, I love the solitude of running on the grass trail, with all the switch backs I've learned over. years of running there, rarely seeing another person on the trail.

I was disappointed to see that Friends of Shelby Park never cleaned up the Cornelia Fort Trail after the tornado a couple of years ago.  It is or, I guess, was, a lovely .8 mile trail through the woods connecting two parts of the grass trail.  It's where I kicked a root covered with leaves during a run several years ago and broke my left big toe.  It's also where I saw an enormous brown owl sitting in a tree, also several years ago.  It's long been my favorite part of running in Shelby Bottoms and I hate that the trail is gone.

We saw a few hikers and, maybe, one or two other runners during our run, but that was it.  JP and I didn't talk much at all during our run.  Instead, we ran together, lost in our own thoughts and, I think, being present in the moment, which is hard to do but really, really important.  Being present in the moment.  

I feel a closeness to JP when we run together.  It's maybe when I feel the closest to him as I think about it now.  This is especially true when we run together at Shelby Bottoms because it's a magical place to me and I've run long there countless times over the past 25 years.  If anything ever happened to me and my boys wanted to find my spirt, they should run the trails at Shelby Bottoms because that's quite likely where I will be or where my essence will be, anyway. 

In the end, JP and I ran seven miles, which counts for a long run for me these days.  We ran the trails at a quicker pace than I normally would run them.  That generally happens when I run with JP.  He inspires me to run faster and work harder, which is kind of an amazing thing.  

I drove him home, dropped him off, then went to grab coffee at Bongo Java, of all places.  On the very rare occasion I stop in Bongo Java, it's like getting into a time machine and going back in time 11 or 12 years, because JP and I, and later, Joe, spent so much time there in the early days.  

Joe asked again, yesterday, when he can run with JP and me.  He wants it and is asking about running, just like JP did at first.  I took Joe to Team Nashville a couple of weeks ago and had my friends, Terry Coker, fit him for his first pair of running shoes.  Soon, very soon, I'll finish a run on my own, then take Joe for a mile run at his pace.  

And so it begins again.  

Poking the Bear

It's never a good idea to poke the bear.  

Thursday late afternoon was race no. 4 of JP's middle school cross country season, this time at Ensworth, a course that was new to him.  It was hotter than I had hoped, with the temperature in the high 80's at the start of the girls' race at 4:30 p.m.  

There was no shade on the course - similar to the River Campus at USN - and the route took the runners around the course twice, with a detour under a bridge to a back loop between miles 1 and 2.  The dark side of the moon, so to speak, because spectators couldn't see the runners while they were on the back loop of the course.

I was very curious to see how this race would turn out given how close the finish was at last week's race at Vaughn's Creek.  JP finished five yards or so ahead of Jack, the USN runner who had finished second to JP  at the two previous races.  Clearly, Jack has gotten faster and I wondered how JP would respond to being challenged for the first time all season.

I learned after the race from JP's friend Abe (and from JP's coach) that before the race started, a couple of JP's buddies from USN told Abe that Jack said he was going to beat JP at Ensworth.  Cross country trash talk from Jack?  Apparently.

Bad idea.

When Abe heard what Jack had said, he stopped and asked the USN boys a question.  "Have you never seen JP mad?  When Abe recounted the conversation to me, after the race, he just shook his head and laughed as we walked across the parking lot.  

Abe, of course, mentioned to JP what Jack had said and, as far as JP was concerned, it was "game on."  Unlike Joe (and me), JP doesn't like trash talk.  He doesn't do it and he doesn't like when other do it.  JP's supremely confident, as a runner, but humble, too.  He doesn't see any need to tell anyone how good he is or that he's going to win a race.  That's just not his game.  

The long and short of it is that JP surged to the lead early and never looked back.  He maintained a lead of at least 20 yards for the first mile, then increased it in the second mile.  When he exited the back loop of the course and made the turn toward home for the last half mile, he had doubled his lead over Jack.  

In the end, JP crossed the finish line in 10:44, setting another PR.  Jack finished a distant second, 40 yards or so behind JP.  Abe was third.  It was the same 1 - 2 - 3 finish for the boys as the previous three races. 

MBA won the meet, again, and remained undefeated for the season at 4 - 0.  

The race was special, because I had arranged for Jude's parents, Jim and Jane, to come, as Ensworth is near their house.  My sisters, Tracy and Alice, were there, too, along with Jerry Meyer.  It was a regular family affair.  

I was proud of JP and how he stepped up and responded to the challenge.  I wonder where JP's running will take him.  He's talented, enjoys it, and has the discipline to continue to improve.  

One more race next week, then the HVAC championship in two weeks.  

Stopping to Say Thanks

I have a moment to breathe, which has been hard to find lately.  So, I'm having a mid-morning cup of coffee at Honest Coffee Roasters in the Factory.  The door to the patio is open.  It's a beautiful day, that time of year when summer is stubbornly hanging on and fall is knocking on the door, asking to come inside.    

I just left court after a hearing this morning on the heels of a mediation yesterday (my case) and two mediations Thursday and Friday of last week (others' cases).  In other words, busy.  

Yesterday, I had the crown replaced on the tooth - No. 3, if you're scoring at home - yesterday morning in a two hour dental procedure, which I had been dreading terribly.  It wasn't fun, for sure, but it wasn't quite as bad as the root canal I had a few weeks ago.  I'm relieved, though, because my dental procedures should be over for the time being.  

What I'm thinking today and, really, at this moment, is that I rarely ever stop to say thank you for all that I have.  I stay so busy, at work and with the boys, that days, weeks, and months go by without me expressing gratitude for the fact that in almost every way, I am abundantly blessed.  

Jude is an amazing mother to our boys, both of whom are happy and healthy.  Jude is healthy.  Jude's folks have fought through Covid-19, recently, and are on the mend.  I did the same last January.  

We live in a great house in a great neighborhood.  My job is secure and I am relatively well paid for working as hard as I do.  The boys go to two of the best schools in town, which is a blessing in an of itself, although not an inexpensive one.  

I've had an up and down year with my health but, thankfully, nothing too serious.  It's not been my most consistent year as a runner, far from it.  Still, I ran four miles Saturday and another four miles Sunday, at a quick pace, and felt good and strong.  That's not something I take for granted.  

It's a day, for me, to embrace a deep and abiding sense of gratitude that the Lord has seen fit to bless me with so much.  

A day to give thanks, so that's what I'm doing right now.  

Thank you.      

A Closer Finish

JP's third cross country race of the season was last Thursday at Vaughn's Creek.  The result, for him, was the same but much different.

I barely made it to the meet, as I was mediating a case that day and I wasn't sure I could get away in time.  Fortunately, it worked out and I rushed over to Vaughn's Creek and arrived right at the start of the girls' race at 4:30 p.m.  I parked and still in my coat and tie, walked through the park to where the MBA team had congregated.  I found JP, gave him our traditional pre-race fist bump, said good luck, and walked over to watch the finish of the girls' race.

Of course, I was nervous.  Nothing new there.

After saying hello to Jude and Joe, who arrived right about the time I did, I walked around a bit, talked to a few people, and meandered back to the start line for the boys' race.  A few minutes later, the air horn sounded, and off they went.  I don't care too much about the start, so I walked back over to the 1 mile mark, near the parking lot.  I talked quietly with one of JP's coaches, trying to hide the fact that I was a bundle of nerves.

When I saw JP approaching in the distance, I realize that for the first time this season, he wasn't alone at the 1-mile mark in a race.  The USN boy, who has finished a distant second to him in the first two races, was running about five yards behind him, holding his position.  "Interesting," I said to myself.  "We've got a race today."

As they passed the 1 mile mark at about a 5:20/mile pace, I started intently at JP's face.  He didn't appear to be as relaxed as normal.  His running form was good.  Nice and smooth.  He seemed to be exerting himself more than normal, at least from my vantage point.  I walked over to the next spot I like to catch the race, at about the 1.4 or 1.5 mile mark.

After what seemed like an interminable wait, I saw JP come out of the trees, having made the turn to the back side of the course.  Sure enough, the USN boy was running in the same place, about five yards off JP's left shoulder.  Clearly, he was running a different race than he'd run the previous two races.  More confident.  Patient, maybe, he seemed to be stalking JP, who hadn't been able to shake him.

JP's face was a mask of determination as the boys ran by me, standing alone and watching.  How much could I discern - really, really discern - in the few seconds I watched the boys run by me?  Little things?  Everything, because I know my son?  In reality, probably somewhere in between.  

I walked back over to the finish line, my heart pounding.  It felt like it was going to pound it's way out of my chest and soar up to the tops of trees, like some kind of unmanned drone, searching for a better view of the last half mile of the race.  

Yes, now I was really nervous.

As JP rounded the last turn and headed for the finish line, I saw that nothing had changed.  The USN boy was in the same place.  Five yards behind JP, off his left shoulder.  As they neared the crowd at the finish line, I heard a few people, then several more, start cheering for JP.  I added my voice, husky now and filled with emotion, imploring JP to push through, to finish strong.

About thirty or forty yards from the finish line, I saw the USN boys break into a sprint.  He was laboring, I could tell, but he was picking up speed, too.  He's shorter than JP, so his steps were shorter as he ran faster.  

JP picked up speed, too, by lengthening his stride.  His face remained impassive, as it usually is during races.  He looked smooth and continued to run effortlessly, just a little faster.  In the end, he held off the USN boy and crossed the finish line first, four or five years ahead.  It was a very good race.

Afterwards, I talked to JP.  "I didn't have it today," he said.  "It's been a weird week, with the holiday (Labor Day) and everything."  

His finishing time?  10:49 for two miles.  Only one second slower than his pace last week at USN's river campus.  Not bad for someone who "didn't have it" during the race. 

That night, before he went to bed, we sat in any office, upstairs, and talked a little bit about the race and what he learned.  "The USN boys is putting the work in," I told him.  "He's improving every week.  Clearly." 

"Yeah," he said.  Stubbornly, I thought, not wanting to concede anything.  I like that about him.

"You've got to push yourself at practice," I said.  "Even if no one else pushes you."  He nodded his heading agreement, then said good night.

Thursday's race at Vaughn's Creek will be an interesting one, I think.  A real race now that JP knows he can't underestimate the USN boy. 

The Honorable Philip E. Smith

Where to begin?

Saturday morning, I learned that my friend and longtime Davidson County Fourth Circuit Judge, Phil Smith, had died in his sleep the night before at age 60.  Way too young, to be sure.

Before he replaced Muriel Robinson one of Davidson County's two family court judges in 2009, Phil Smith was a divorce lawyer, practicing with Phillip Robinson for many years.  I had cases against Phil Smith in those years - one, in particular, comes to mind (Moseley) - that we settled in my client's favor on the morning of trial.  

Through some clever lawyering and a huge assist from Mary Frances Lyle, God rest her soul, I beat Phil Smith in that case and man, it pissed him off.  I've thought about that case a lot the past couple of days.    

Ironically, Phillip Robinson was appointed as the Davidson County Second Circuit Court Judge a couple of years after Phil Smith was appointed, then reelected.  The result was that, in essence, Phil Smith and Phillip Robinson went from being law partners for two decades - working on divorce cases together - to working side by side as Davidson County's two family court judges. 

I likened Phil Smith and Phillip Robinson to Ernie and Bert on Sesame Street.  Longtime business partners and friends, then judges, presiding together over Davidson County's domestic court.  They agreed on most things but differed on others.  Watching them together - at CLE seminars, for instance - was hilarious, because they constantly picked on each other in the way the only old friends can.  

I remember Phil Smith maintaining that he was more popular than Phillip Robinson because he had gotten more votes in his election when he was reelected - probably less than 200 more - and he chortled about that again and again.  It made no sense, of course, because they didn't run against each other but damn, it was funny.  It irritated Phillip Robinson, too, which made it even funnier.

I appeared in front of Phil Smith many times over the past 13 years, sometimes on simple, straightforward matters and other times on complicated, litigious matters (Neuman, Vingelen, to name a few).  Phil Smith respected me, probably because we had been adversary counsel before he became a judge.  I, of course, respected him because he took his job as a judge so seriously and worked so hard to clean up the domestic docket after he was appointed a judge in Fourth Circuit Court.

A few months ago, Phil Smith asked Greg Smith (no relation) and me to preside over mock mediations in his family law class at Nashville School of Law, where he had taught for several years.  Greg and I had a great time and I loved interacting with the students.  Afterwards, Phil Smith, Greg, and I talked for a while, as friends and colleagues are wont to do.  

Recently, I appeared in Court on a matter (Demaree) that required Judge Smith's attention.  My case was the last one on the docket and I stepped back into his chambers after we finished the hearing.  Alisha had just told me she was leaving our office and I asked Phil Smith to give some thought to finding a replacement for her.  Without missing a beat, he told me he already had my replacement and she was in his chambers with us, then and there.  

Of course, I hired Andrea McCoy, his law clerk for three years, and she started with us about a month ago.  That's how much I respected Phil Smith. 

A lawyer I talked to yesterday, Jacob Thorington, remarked that Judge Smith taught him something almost every time he appeared in front of him and - this is important - not in a condescending, arrogant way.  In a mentoring way, a way that made him proud to be a lawyer.  

Phil Smith absolutely loved his job.  He loved being a judge and took his responsibilities very seriously.  When he was on the bench, it was easy to see how much he cared, even if he ruled against your client.  

This is a huge loss for the legal community, particularly those of us who practice primarily family law.  It's a big loss for me, personally, because Phil Smith was why friend and someone I respected tremendously.  I'm so sad, today, for his wife, Pam, and his two daughters.  

None of this make any sense, not really.  Phil Smith was a big personality and quite frankly, it's hard to imagine practicing domestic law in Nashville in front of someone else.

https://www.tncourts.gov/press/2022/09/04/judiciary-mourns-loss-nashville-circuit-court-judge-phil-smith

Serena

Friday evening, Serena Williams, 40, lost to Ajla Tomljanovic in the third round of the U.S. Open in what was almost certainly her final tennis match as a professional.  

The owner of 23 Grand Slam titles in singles, Serena has been on a quixotic quest to tie Margaret Court's record of 24 Grand Slam titles since she last won a singles title at the 2017 Australian Open.  Since then, she's had a child, battled injuries, and taken time off from tennis in the midst of what, ultimately, was an unsuccessful quest to tie Margaret Court's longstanding record.  

In the end, though, Serena Williams' impact on women's tennis and, really, women's sport generally, is farther reaching than the 23 Grand Slam singles titles she won over a professional career that spanned more than a quarter century.  From when she won her first Grand Slam title at the U.S. Open in 1999 at age 17 to her final match Friday night, Serena blazed a trail for all women to follow.

Outspoken, brash, and unapologetically competitive, Serena pulled women's tennis - kicking and screaming, at times - into the 21st century.  Gone forever were the days when women's tennis took a back seat to the men's game.  Gone also were the days when women's tennis players were demure, understated, and soft spoken in the just happy to be there way preferred by the tennis establishment.  

Serena and to a lesser extent her sister, Venus, took the baton from Billie Jean King, and insisted on being heard on issues important to the women's game, like pay equity in Grand Slam tennis tournaments.  

I have a vivid memory if sitting in my office, downstairs, at 401 Church Street in Franklin, shortly after my partner, Mark, and I had started our law practice there.  As I read the USA Today at my desk, there was a color photograph of Serena and Venus on the front page of the sports section, their hard braided with beads as they wore it in the early days of their careers.  

Serena and Venus were so young then, 16 and 18, if my math is correct.  I was young, too.  Unmarried, no children, starting a new law practice.  Now, it seems, we've grown older, if not old, together.  The Williams' sisters, especially Serena, have been a constant in my life, for more than two decades.  Jude and I have watched, and cheered, as we celebrated their success.  

All of that has come to and end, though, which is the way it works in sports, sadly.  An athlete's youth is not limitless and, in fact, it's rather fleeting.  When it's over, it always seems to have passed by too quickly.  Sports is like life in that regard, I guess.  

When life is over, or nearly over, it seems to have passed by too quickly.

The Beast is Back

In a reprise of his stunning win in his first middle school cross country race for MBA last August at USN's river campus, JP stormed to a win in yesterday's race at the river campus with a PR of 10:48.  The second place finisher was at least 50 yards behind him.  

Frustrated sportswriter, maybe, but JP's performance on a very hot afternoon was nothing short of amazing.

Leading up to the race, we had talked about what he wanted to do, and he told me he wanted to run under 11:00.  This season, because he's going to have to set goals for races and motivate himself because it doesn't appear that he has a rival to push him, at least not on the MBA team.  He misses Cade Sturdivant in that regard, as they finished 1 - 2 in all four races they ran together last year.  He's going to have to push himself, really, to race against himself, I think, at least until the regional cross country meet.

Watching him run is truly a thing of beauty.  His form is damn near perfect.  He never seems to be struggling.  So smooth.  He runs so effortlessly.  For an old runner like me, to see his youth, vitality, strength, and stamina on display during a race is moving.  It's emotional for me to watch him race, in large part because I'm so damn proud of the work he has put in leading up to this point.  139 miles this summer and still, even now, he runs on his own on weekends.  

Most of all, I'm glad he's learning that hard work pays off, almost every time.  Certainly, it does in the running world.  

The way the USN cross country course is set up, I can watch him at four different points, including the finish line.  I have to move pretty quickly, though, to get from one place to the other because he's so fast.  A few friends were laughing yesterday as I jogged across the parking lot to get to close to the one mile mark to see him.  

As he runs by each spot where I am, I encourage him and, if he asks, tell him how far back the second runner is behind him.  That answer, so far, has been way back.  

Yesterday, at around the one a half mile mark, I waited, anxiously, by myself, straining to see the John Deere Gator making the turn on the back of the course, 15 yards or so ahead of JP.  I climbed up to the top of a small set of bleachers at the tennis courts so I could look out across the course.  At first, nothing.  This is taking too long, I thought.  Has the heat gotten to him?

Then, I saw the Gator, and I saw him.  Way out in front.  In fact, I couldn't see the second place runner at all as he made the turn onto the home stretch of the course.  As he approached me, the win assured barring a catastrophe, I began wondering about his time.  He looked good, and strong, as he ran by me and I yelled encouragement.

I ran across the parking lot to the finish line, where I could see watch the digital clock and see JP finish at the same time.  As he rounded the far turn and ran toward the finish line, the digital clock hit 10:00.  He's got a chance, I thought, to break 11:00.  

I turned my head left, to watch him, then back right, to check the clock, several times as he approached me.  He's got a chance!  

When JP was 10 yards away from me, I couldn't contain myself any longer.  "Go!  I shouted.  "Get under 11:00!!  You can do it!  Push!"  My voice was choked with emotion as he sprinted by me toward the finish line.  

With an incredibly strong finishing kick, JP ran across the finish line in 10:48.  Amazing.  Almost 30 seconds faster than his time at Vaughn's Creek last week and a PR for a two mile race.  

Before the race, he asked me if I'd be at the finish line and if I'd have water.  "Of course I will," I told him. "I think I'm going to need it," he said, then walked over the starting line.  

I thought about our brief conversation as I ran to him when he exited the finisher's chute, breathing hard and moaning a bit.  A put my arm around his waste, walked him over to my cooler, and got him an cold towel to wrap around his neck and ice cold water.  We walked together for a minute or two, JP leaning against me for support, while my heart filled with so much pride it wanted to burst out of my chest and streak across the late afternoon sky.  

Slowly, he came back to himself as runners do after a hard race, then walked over to watch his teammates finish.

And I stood there smiling to myself, in awe of my 14 year old son and what he had just accomplished.