My kid LOVES to run.
He does not get this from me.
He does get it from just about everyone else in his family. His aunts all ran track. His uncle ran cross country and track. His father ran cross country. His grandpa has run a marathon. His mother, well, she decided to run during her sophomore year of high school and quit before the first meet because her knees hurt so bad she could barely walk. A doctor confirmed that her joints were a mess and she decided to stick with swimming. After all, she'd been doing it for eight years at that point and destroying her body for a sport she didn't even particularly like sounded dumb.
But the boy loves it. He's currently running track through the local rec center. Today, at his school, was the Apex Fun Run Fundraiser. He's been raising money for the past couple of weeks.
The kids run around a 1/16th of a mile track, get a hash mark on their shirt when they complete a lap, and, while they can only run 36 laps for the fundraising portion, they can run as many as they want for bragging rights.
Garrett has never really seemed overly competitive to me. For this reason, I've questioned, on several occasions, whether he was switched at birth. However, when it comes to running, some competitive bear roars from within and he goes a little nuts. He. Just. Keeps. Going.
When all was said and done, he ran 65 laps. That's just over four miles. He did it in 35 minutes which makes his average come out to about 8.45 a mile.
As for me, well, I spent 35 minutes marking the shirts of 100 kids as they ran by every 30 seconds.
This kid cheered on his stud brother.
We were both SO proud of Garrett. It's not that he (unconfirmed) ran the most laps out of all the first graders. It's not that he's quick. We're so proud of him because he just runs. He doesn't quit. He doesn't stop. He doesn't whine or cry or complain. He just runs. His endurance is a fun thing to watch.