A Chip off Dad's [Starting] Block

Today was a great day. I woke up at 1:30 am to the sound of pouring rain- again. This is the third morning in a row. Saturday, it was a novelty to have a cooling, yet tropical rain douse us for 15 miles. Sunday was a little less novel as carpel tunnel set in squeezing the brakes as much as I did down the hills on our ride. I tried to pretend I was impressing my riding partner with her view of my triceps as I clenched those brakes. Today, I awoke to the sound of falling rain, looked at the clock, and was relieved to think I had 2 more hours of sleep before getting up. I was hopeful the waterworks would end by the 4 am run. No such luck.

I called my running partner at 3:20 am. "Are we really running in this?" My voice was cranky and, really, just mad.
"Well, I'm running in it. If you are not, I will get on the treadmill in my garage..." was her equally cranky response.
The guilt was enough for me. "I'm walking out the door right now."

Begrudgingly, I got in the car and drove to our meeting spot. Usually a happy commute for me, this morning it seemed counterproductive somehow when I was so bitter about a little rain. Sometimes the dichotomy in my brain is enough to make me unstable. I hate that I love to exercise so much that I am willing to sacrifice sleep and warmth to turn up in the downpour. It turned out that our just shy of 11 mile run was quite beautiful. I love how the rain looks as it falls in front of the streetlamps...it almost looks like snow. Now there is a thought...snow in July in San Diego. It was so delicate and romantic almost. It felt like a photography in black and white in the darkness. It was a great run and I am so glad I dragged my sorry tukis out of bed. My running partner, however, decided she was too tired after the run to swim, so I had to drag myself into the facility alone. It felt like I was walking the plank. I swam 1400 long course and by then it was almost the true time for me to get out. I needed coffee in a bad way.

The highlight of the day, however, was attending our 5 year old's swim team beach banquet and award ceremony. I was not aware of the awards, but I knew enough to bring food for the potluck. After a rainy morning, it turned out to be a hot and beautiful day. The kids played in the surf forever with friends, riding boogey boards and building sandcastles. This is what San Diego dreams are made of. The food was great and then everyone gathered for awards. They actually started with some announcements and then the little kids on pre team, which is our girl. When the coaches announced that our team is number 2 in all of San Diego (second only to a team that has a much nicer pool and 504 more swimmers than we do), it did my heart such good. When my daughter won "Most Improved Swimmer" on that team, my heart was swelling with pride. The awards were so far and few between that I was honestly impressed. When coach Patty began talking about a little girl who started and could barely swim the length of the pool but never gave up, I found myself chanting in my head, "Oh please, God, please God..." I hoped desperately it was my little one, knowing it would be the push of encouragement she would need. Her strokes are so darn pretty, but it breaks my heart when she says, "Mom, I'm always the last one [to the wall]." It just had to be her name they called....and they did. It was actually kind of emotional to know how hard she works and to think she is on her way. She was recognized for having the "heart of a lion". She hugged her coaches and after some cake, we packed up to get ready to leave.
"Good job, " coach Michael said to her. She saw him, dropped her boogey board, and leapt into his arms to hug him. It was a scene from some romantic or heart wrenching movie, where the people are estranged from each other for some period of time, only to have a heart-felt reunion. She was elated.

It is so easy to get lost in the day in and day out of things. We run through our days, follow our schedules, make our plans, check off our lists. Sometimes we just cannot see the forest for the trees. Today, I saw the tree right in front of me. The little one, reaching for the sun, growing in invisible ways to new heights each day. There she was, holding her trophy with her little chest puffed out. All I could think was she is just like her daddy, with his numerous trophies from swimming past. She clutched that plaque and asked me, "Mom, is this real gold??" Some milestones are so obvious. Others are less tangible and cause us to examine a little closer. The joy of being an athlete is never-ending. The joy of being a mom is indescribable. The joy of raising an athlete is ethereal. Her self-esteem just went up about 100 points. I'll swim to that.