Turkey Trot 2018

Austin loves to run, just like his dad. 

He has a natural ability and, importantly, an inclination for running. He has done a few dashes, including this year’s 50 yard dash. We were worried that his perfect record of 1-0 would be in trouble, but we believe that he tied for first this year – a photo finish would be needed to determine the victor. In any case, Austin ONLY likes to win, so we’ve been talking with constantly about not winning and just doing your best. This discussion has been incessant with mild to medium success. At least now, he tells us he understands. However, when it comes down to it in the heat of the moment, he inevitably crumbles under the weight of his self-imposed perfection and has a meltdown.

Interestingly, the tie at the dash was acceptable. We'll take it...

So, then it was time for the turkey trot.

I was, as per usual, nervous. This time it was, because the turkey “trot” was actually a 1-mile race. That’s a long race for a 4-year old. The weekend before we practiced and Austin made it twice around Lincoln Park without much effort. I mean, he walked a bit, but my concern was for his temperament and stamina, not his time trial splits.

So I thought, ok, he can do it.

The Turkey Trot was on Thanksgiving Day, thus I was not planning to attend, because I was cooking my favorite meal for 12 people. It was up to Hayden to keep Austin alive, uh, I mean, go and enjoy the race with Austin.

On the morning of the race, it was bone-chillingly cold. 28 degrees and very windy. This was a wrinkle I had not anticipated. We decided the night before that it would simply be too cold and too irresponsible for Austin to race. But of course, the fun of it all nagged at us. When I remembered he inherited long underwear from his friend Kobe, we decided to go for it. Layers upon layers were added to this kid. We found heavy gloves we forgot we had for him and a face mask that he swore he wouldn’t wear until he stepped outside. And, off they went and back to the kitchen I went to prepare the bird and fret about frost bite.

An hour later, I get a text of a red-faced but contented little boy clutching a medal, replete with a picture of a turkey wearing sneakers. They did it! And there’s even a video I need to figure out how to upload.

My boys, the runners both!

PS The Thanksgiving meal was great too. The menu was:

Turkey and stuffing

Homemade cranberry sauce

Roasted Winter vegetables with Z’aatar spices

Italian Brussels Sprouts with lemon zest and parmesan cheese

Pumpkin pie

Peanut butter and Hershey kiss cookies

Others brought:

Mom’s famous mac and cheese

Sweet potato and apple casserole

Jodi’s famous green bean and fried onion casserole

Banana bread

Mashed potatoes

 

 

T-ball for the Win!

I think I’ve found my calling: T-ball coach. We signed Austin up, hoping he was now old enough to enjoy it (unlike soccer at age 2…)

About a week before it started, an email asking for volunteers went out and I said I’d be happy to help. Translation: I was assigned head coach of the Detroit Tigers.

Austin and I had a blast! He loved hitting line drives and learned that he could “pull the ball.” He was one of the best of the bunch, alongside little Benji, who’s dad brought him his own bat for practice. I made up drills and learned that some wouldn’t work with 4-year olds. For example, lining everyone up to sprint to the cone at the far end led to various crashes, stumbles, and tears, and so it was better to split them up a bit and do a controlled release of each runner. 

I made the real-time decision that throwing partners should be parents and not other kids. Several near misses occur when projectiles, I mean balls, are launched by 4-year olds. Similarly, batting practice involved all parents on deck. I helped with each kid’s swing and form, we needed 2-3 parents to hold the other kids in a line far enough back so that the child swinging didn’t hit someone, and James #2’s mom had to hover close enough to him to catch his bat when he flung it with reckless abandon, but not too closely as to get her head knocked off. We needed a parent on each base to direct traffic and we needed to move homeplate away from the T as to not cause yet another opportunity for injury. Phew.

Our “game” consisted of one inning where everyone got to hit. Austin figured out that if he went up to bat last during games, he could hit a home run and run all of the bases. This was because each kid was allowed to run to first base and advance bases one at a time until the last kid hit and brought everyone home. I let him do it every time, promising myself that if another kid caught on to this boon I would make the switch, but no one did. At the end of our “game” I gathered everyone around and brought hands in for a great big tiger roar, and then on to snack time, which was a highlight for us all.

Teamwork for Austin and for the other gaggle of 4-year old boys and one girl was still elusive, but for the most part our second foray into organized sports went well.