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7:10 – Wednesday Night – I am sitting in the basement watching my 9-year old run.
She is running on the treadmill for the second time in 3 nights. On Monday she ran 1.33 miles in 20 minutes. Tonight, her legs a little sore from Monday, she has set a goal of 1 mile. I couldn’t be prouder. After I spent much of the summer and fall trying in vain to entice her to run, Katie finally decided she wanted to run…on her own.
I don’t know what motivated her, and honestly I don’t care. The bottom line is that something clicked and she found the inner motivation. It didn’t matter how much I encouraged her before – until she decided it was truly something she wanted to do, she just wasn’t going to do it.
In these two runs, she has found a sense of pride in completing the runs and has said that she physically felt great afterward (though her legs are a little sore). I think it’s cute that she wants me down there with her while she runs. She keeps an eye on her distance, ticking away the minutes, alternately chatty and silent.
As her run comes to an end (1 mile, 15:00!) she say ,”I’m tired but that was fun.”
Isn’t that what it’s all about?
“I’m proud of myself,” she says as she walks the cool down.
I’m proud of you too baby, I’m proud of you too.