Hanna, our ten year old competed in a cross country meet yesterday.

It brought me back to thirty years ago when I ran cross country. I don’t remember it ever being voluntary, but like most things available to kids these days, it is entirely up to them whether they will participate or not, whether they want to quit after the first lap and check their ipods, whether they will wear the uniform, drink from a BPA free bottle or risk their lives on a communal fountain, or attend any of the work-outs at all.

I hated cross country. Sorry Mom, I know you’re reading this and thinking, “Oh you’re not remembering it properly.”

I wasn’t a fast distance runner, I had short legs and no endurance. The trifecta the cross country coaches look for when placing kids (attendance was mandatory) on the B team.

I remember walking a lot and wanting to vomit even more.

I also had a wicked, feathered hair-cut that couldn’t be fashionably pulled into a pony-tail so I ran blind most of the time.

We approached the races the same way each time…..all wrong.

I remembered hearing the words, “you should pace yourself” and even repeating in my head “pace yourself stumps, pace yourself” but something about that starter gun going off (30 years ago they used a real pistol, today just a megaphone with an annoying horn) caused everyone to spring into action and start the run like we were being chased by sharks.

After the first 100m, the enthusiasm for running fizzled, at least for me and I either had to start walking, curl down to my feet and hope my chest didn’t burst through the skin or rub the burn out of my quads with my clenched running fists. I would just wave my arms in front of me hoping to grab the red tape of the finish line only to realize it was many, many miles away and probably in the opposite direction.

Yesterday was different.

Hanna walked the race last year. I was annoyed that she and a friend had conspired to walk-and-talk the trail as opposed to even turning on a light jog. Did I really give up my afternoon folding for this?

This year, she appeared to want to actually run, wore the school t-shirt (tied at the hip with a hair elastic like the older girls, yes) but still, she was taking it seriously.

The kids all sprinted right at the horn (sigh, nothing has changed) but what made me so proud was they were still sprinting at the end–including my kid.

It took me the entire drive home to figure out her secret.

Head band.