From Trauma to Triumph on the Track

When Nick was in second grade, some of his close friends were running track with the CYO and he decided to give it a try. It’s a program that is open to kids age five through grade eight. They compete against teams from all around the area, and track meets are a big deal, often lasting 3 hours or more. Nick has faithfully attended practices and done his part for the fall cross-country and winter/spring track meets over the past two years. His name is on the banner with the rest of the boys’ team from last year as first place winners for the season.

Justin had been tagging along with Nick to track practice, and when he turned five in December, he said he wanted to join, too. This made him the youngest person on the team, and it was a struggle. Sometimes he was into it and sometimes he wasn't. No one knew how he would handle an actual race. 

At Justin’s first track meet he ran a 50-yard dash. Even within his peewee age-group, he was the smallest one. He was so anxious and distraught about running that I thought he was going to back out. It didn’t help that his race was the very last one of the day so he had hours to get himself all worked up. But when the time came, he did it! He ran his little heart out, finished third out of four for his heat and proudly wore his medal. His parents and I breathed a sigh of relief; it looked like he was going to be okay.

The next track meet didn’t go as well. Justin started the race, saw the other kids running past him and stopped running, in tears. The meet after that, he finished the race, but with tears streaming down his cheeks. What happened between his first meet and the second one? No one knows, but now it had become a thing. And when something becomes a thing for a five-year-old, the chance of recovery is slim to none. 

This week they had the last meet of the season. Justin wasn’t happy when he got there and learned that he would be running in a relay. He started freaking out. His teammates and Nick did everything they could to convince him he could do it, but he wasn’t having it. Nick came to the stands where his parents and I were sitting and said that the coach asked for one of Justin’s parents to come and talk to him. So Jon went to him, and Justin had a melt down. Clearly, it wasn’t going to happen.

The coach was understanding. She found another boy to fill in on Justin’s leg of the relay and Justin would run in the 100-yard dash at the end of the meet. No other peewees were running in that race. (They were all in the relay.) Justin was a leftover and they put him in a race with an older age-group so he could run. He was up against five boys who were three to four years older than him. So there was Justin at the starting line, waiting for the pistol to go off, standing next to boys who were a foot or two taller than him. This wasn’t going to go well. His competitors were going to leave him in the dust, and God knows how he was going to handle it. We were holding our breath.

Now, it just so happens that one of his competitors in that race ended up being his almost nine-year-old brother Nick. As soon as the race started, Justin fell behind, just as I expected he would. But what I hadn’t expected was how Nick would run. Forgetting about the other competitors in his race, Nick fell back to run beside Justin and stayed with him all the way to the finish line, both of them smiling and laughing all the way.

This time, the tears weren’t coming from Justin, but from his mom, his dad and me. We all lost it. And I have to say that no matter what Nick may go on to accomplish in his lifetime, I will never be prouder of him than I was in that moment.

Justin was over-the-moon happy as he announced to me, “Nick and I tied!”