Mama/Coach

Last night Marz ran in her first meet of the year.

She is already beating her personal best times from last year.

She has some speed, good form, and most of all:  she is coachable.


She likes it when I come with her to the track after practice to help her out with hurdles.  About a hundred years ago, I was a hurdler.  I like it that she wants my help.

And when I say "help," what I really mean is I watch her do her thing, encourage her to do what I know she can already do and throw in some pointers here and there.

In no way does the word "help" mean that I do the hurdles.  Anymore. 

I tried.

As it turns out, I can't jump over a hurdle without peeing my pants. 

Hey, it's been a hundred years.  What did you expect?