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.
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