The past two weeks have been filled with celebrations as both my husband and my youngest celebrated their birthdays. And then there was cross-country… which, despite all the celebrations, is what stood out most.
Every year, cross-country reminds me that I am, indeed, a road runner. My coach insists it does me good, so I dutifully pin on my race number and convince myself that perhaps this year it won’t be quite so bad.
It always is.
This previous cross-course was especially brutal. We had a log to jump over, endless zig-zagging up and down an embankment, and one section where we had to run across a steep camber that seemed designed to make everyone question their life choices.
More than once I thought about quitting.
Not slowing down.
Not walking.
Quitting.
Afterwards, I told my coach that if it hadn’t been for one thing, I probably would have stepped off the course. My youngest son had already finished his race and was watching ours. Knowing that somewhere out there he was watching me gave me a reason not to quit.
I joked afterwards that I realised I had to set a good example. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realised that’s only half the story.
The truth is that I needed him.
His presence gave me something to hold onto when my own determination started slipping.
We often celebrate self-motivated people. We admire those who seem to achieve incredible things through sheer discipline and willpower. But I wonder if we sometimes underestimate the power of simply having someone in our corner.
Someone who says, “Go for it.”
Someone who says, “I believe in you.”
Someone who waits at the finish line.
Someone whose belief in us becomes strong enough to carry us when our belief in ourselves falters.
I always feel sad for people whose dreams are met with indifference or criticism at home. How many goals are quietly abandoned because nobody ever said, “I’ll be there”?
Sometimes the people who believe in us become the very reason we refuse to give up. Not because we don’t want to disappoint them, but because their belief reminds us of who we are when we’ve temporarily forgotten ourselves.
I most certainly didn’t finish that cross-country race because I suddenly became tougher.
I finished because someone important was watching.
And sometimes, that’s enough.