We Created a Monster

Quiz:  What happens when two runners get married & have kids?
Answer: The kids are running monsters.

Seriously, our kids will always have a warped sense of reality.  Before Genevieve could speak in full sentences, she knew that races go swim-bike-run.  She knew that races have winners and losers.  And like her dad, she has already learned that she may never be one of the winners!

Sometimes I feel a little guilty about our kids' exposure to competitive events.  They have spent many, many boring hours milling around the transition area or the finish line.  They have been crammed into a jogger for workouts or to track mom or dad's progress in a long-distance race.  They have fallen asleep in the bike trailer on long rides.  They probably think this is totally normal -- that every parent drinks Gatorade for breakfast, has 2 or 3 blue toenails, and has their age written in permanent marker on their left calf. 

But when I feel guilty, I consider the alternatives.  I suppose we could be dragging our kids out to meetings of the Precious Moments Collectors Club.  (I thought I just made that up, but there really is such an organization.)  And their reality would be animated by doe-eyed porcelain children with oversized heads and impossibly adorable cowlicks, frozen in syrup-sweet episodes from your grandmother's revisionist history.  Or we could race Pontiac Trans-Ams and our kids would ask why the Prius doesn't have a giant firebird painted on the hood, and why I make them wear something over their wife-beater t-shirts at church. 

Our children were not destined to be so lucky.  Our children observe us constantly training for the next big event, and they have already begun mimicking our hobbies. 

For example, one of our good friends (also obsessed with running) put on kids' dashes when Genevieve was still impressionable.  She was so proud of her "running shoes."  She finished next-to-last or in last place, but she certainly put in her best effort.

One of the highlights of Genevieve's racing history (and one of my highlights as well) was the Independence Day 5000, a 5K that took place a month after Emory was born.  As in other races, I pushed her in a jogger.  But this time she had a t-shirt that matched mine (a leftover running shirt from my law firm's team), and she got to wear the number.  Better yet, she even got her own paper cup before the race.  When she finished drinking the water, I told her to throw away the cup, but she insisted that she "throw it on the street like the runners do."  So halfway through the 5K, she leaned forward out of the jogger and tossed her cup in front of the aid station.

Genevieve can turn anything into a "race."  She routinely runs laps around the main living area of our home, and she puts together "triathlons" that include "swimming" on the carpet, biking, and running, all in the living room. 

She even managed to put together a front yard triathlon for the two of us one evening when I arrived from work.  Yes, the water was really cold, but the bike portion was surprisingly easy.

Two nights ago, as I was putting Genevieve to bed, she asked, "Daddy, is my watch waterproof?"  "Yes, it is.  Why?"  "Because when I get bigger, and do a triathlon, I want to wear my watch in the water."

And a running monster is born!