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.