While I was browsing the Internet, there was this ad that caught my eye. it was loud and orange and it was Reebok’s Spartan Race. Well, it wasn’t really the Spartan Race but rather the Junior Spartan Race that caught my attention. The Cold Storage Kid’s Run seem to have grown out of Matthew and he needed something new. This was going to be it.
After getting Matthew’s consent, it was a go. And that was nearly a month before the actual race.
Race day. We were ready. Well, mostly. Matthew had been throwing fits of rage every now and then, probably because we all had to wake up early on a Saturday. Apart from being difficult to talk to, everything seemed to look like it was going to be a good race. Until the skies opened up and a bit of rain came down. Our heat was delayed for a few minutes for something that resembled a drizzle. but kudos to the organizers because precautions were in place for such things to keep the kids safe.
And then it was time. Matthew lined up at the start line and I looked for a place where I can watch and hopefully take good photos. I was probably about 500 meters up front along with a hundred other spectators (who are obstructing my view). But that was the best seat in the house at that time. I mean, we were in a sports complex where the seats are too far out from the field and there are no bleachers to speak of. I was going after Matthew with my eyes and then it hit me.
Matthew was running with all his might, being serious about the fight. He wasn’t in the competitive race because we didn’t know what we would be expecting on race day. But boy, did he run. I was happy. I was proud. There was a Junior Spartan attacking the course on his own. Not alone, but fighting the good fight all on his own. There was an air of independence in him that I rarely see (because he has always been clingy). And that was enough for a father.
One other thing that I have noticed was how big Matthew had already grown. From the days that we were running the Cold Storage Kid’s Run, to this Junior Spartan race. In his first ever race, I was running beside him from the start line to the finish line. Now, he is his own man. Running like real pro. And while this isn’t really our passion, taking part in it broadens our perspective. We are not just spectators or critics after all. We are participants in a game called life.