Training With a 13 Year Old

Saturday, January 3rd.  I can hardly believe it's January!  The temperature outside today is predicted to reach 68 degrees.  The sky is thickly overcast and we have a 50% chance of rainfall around 2pm.  Mattie wants to start training with me today.  She will turn 14 2 weeks before race day, so (logically) she is 13 years old now.  She is 5 foot 1 and 94 pounds; a perfect (and sickening) size 0. Compared to my 138 pound, snug size 8 body.  She promised not to make fun me today, but, as it turns out, it was an unnecessary vow. 

We went out at about 10 o'clock this morning, fired up the ipods and started walking.  (Same path I took before - around the schools.)  After we walked the long side of the block, I motioned to her that we should run for a short distance.  She cringed, pulled out her earbuds and told me her side was cramping.  I was pretty disappointed.  My legs were a tad bit sore from my first run and I wanted to stretch them out with a little speed.  But I reminded myself that I am first of all her mother and her protector and second her training partner and coach.

We finished walking the first loop and she was still lagging behind me, so I suggested that she rest and wait for me in the car while I went around again, incorporating some jogging.  She didn't like that idea and insisted on going with me.  She would lag and I would double back to her.  She ran some, but her side kept cramping.  Even going a little slower than I wanted to, I was able to finish 2 laps in 34 minutes (2 minutes faster than the first time) and then I walked back to Mattie so we could finish together.

I'm proud of myself for not being the one to slow her down or embarrass her and I'm proud of her for not quitting even when her fat mom was beating her!

On the way home, our abs got a nice workout from the laughing fit that started when we were treated to one of those frequent reminders that we live in Arkansas.  We were about a mile from home when we saw a man in his early 40's waiting to cross the road with what we thought was a horribly ugly Red Healer dog.  The man was the picture of poor hygiene with untended hair, unshaven face, torn, baggy jeans, and a tank top exposing us to a quite unnecessary view of his extremely hairy armpits.  As we passed him, with both did a double-take when we realized that the man was not walking an ugly dog across the street, but a brownish-red, wirey-haired pig.  Not a trendy, cute pot-belly pig, but a gross, mutt pig.  Well, at least we won't have to do any sit-ups today.