Early July I came across a cross country summer camp for my seventh grade middle school daughter I'll call TJ.
Forever I had thought about her running the mile. I was a pretty good runner, running a mile in 4:27. My brother was even better running a PR of 4:19 on a ridiculously light load of less than 25 miles per week. And her uncle, on her mom's side ran the 100M and 200M at the D1 collegiate level so it was always in the back of my mind that maybe she'd be a runner.
But watching her on the soccer field made me think twice. She had an ungainly style that looked like she was ice skating, not that much of a surprise since she did play hockey like dad. She runs with her butt low all quads and overstriding with a massive heal strike, but she was quick, with an explosive speed that always surprised opponents on the pitch.
She was not quite so excited. Like a typical pre-teen girl she didn't want to do it because she wouldn't know anybody. So I recruited. I talked to the parents of her two best friends and got the three of them signed up and going running twice a week.
Although she claimed she could beat everybody I was a little skeptical. But on their last day of camp they ran a mile on a trail and she finished behind two eighth grade boys beating about 30 other 7th and 8th grade boys and girls. Her time was 6:34. Not bad for a first mile.
Her friends finished right behind her by a few seconds.
"Are you girls excited to run cross country in the fall?"
Shoulders shrugging. "I don't know, there's no ball."
There's no ball. I'm going to be haunted by that remark I am sure.
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