The Courage to Run

Around the 4th of July, we throw around a lot of big words like courage, freedom, and independence. These are hard to define, and are mostly relegated to our forefathers, especially as we celebrate the birth of our nation. We honor those who have gone before us, even died for us, so that we may enjoy these great gifts. Indeed, our independence and freedom were won because of the courage of many.

Winning and patriotism go hand in hand in the U.S. At every major sporting event, we hear the National anthem. We remember our unity as citizens and then compete to win.

As for my family, we're not really into that competition thing. Probably because everyone in my family is highly fond of winning. Certainly, the desire to win can inspire excellence. Needing to be first can also inhibit trying something new for fear of losing.

I was surprised when Kiddo wanted to run a 3K race with her cousins, given I had never seen her run for the sake of running. I was afraid she wouldn't be able to finish, and it would destroy her confidence.

She had done no training, save for 5 days of swimming laps. In any typical circumstance, I would have expected her to politely decline. This time she was blinded by love. She is over-the-moon about her cousins, and will do anything to spend time with them - even running.

They arrived at the race a half hour after registration ended. The officials told her she was not allowed to run. She sobbed, telling her dad, I feel so alone. Her aunt managed to convince the organizers to allow her to run. She would receive a t-shirt, but would not receive a number. It seemed that allowing a 7 year old to cross the finish line without a number would mess up their counting. Evidently, this 3K Race outside of Rochester, MN is a qualifier for the Boston Marathon.

"Fine," they said, "just let her run." So, after a hysterical cry, Kiddo started running. She made it to the last 50 feet, and said, "Daddy, I just can't finish." My husband jumped over the ropes and together they ran toward the finish line.

A man stepped in front of them and declared, "You don't have a number. You can't cross the finish line." They stopped a 7 year old girl from crossing the finish line of her first race. It begs a sarcastic, "Really?" doesn't it?

She sobbed again, disappointed that she didn't get to cross the finish line with her cousins. Even worse, they each won a medal, and, since she finished along with them, she would have won one too.

When I step back from my rage over how poorly my husband and daughter were treated by these small town, small-minded people who felt being right was more important than having compassion for a 7 year old girl, I am amazed at what actually transpired.

My kiddo, who under most circumstances might not have even attempted to run, actually ran that race. She faced fear of failure, rejection, feelings of isolation and loneliness. She finished the race, even though they tried to make her stop and physically prevented her from crossing the finish line.

I pray a lot of things for her. I pray that she will have joy and know who she is as a child of God. I pray that she will have the courage to stand up for what is right. I pray that she will reach out for help when she needs it. I pray for her to have perseverance to fight the good fight. I offer these prayers mostly for her future when she is forced to confront the dark side of life when she is a teenager.

The truth is these darker elements do exist, even for young children. They need us to protect, encourage, and sometimes run with them, but they also need to know that they have everything they need to finish the race.

She learned that she can be satisfied that she finished the race, even if she didn't get the plastic medal or the encouragement of the crowd. She learned she can do something hard. She learned she can ask for help when she needs it - and get it.

My prayers were answered and then some. The kid has guts. I made her a Certificate of Accomplishment and taped it to the front door. I signed it, George Washington. One of our most courageous and faithful freedom fighters.

She also got her lousy t-shirt. As we unpacked, she handed it to me and said, "Mommy, I don't really want this."

"You don't want to wear it for a nightshirt?" I asked, but saw her face and quickly added, "how about I scrub the toilet with it?"

Yesterday, Kiddo defined these illusive words this way: Courage - I will run the race, even if I don't know how, and I can ask for help when I need it. Freedom - I don't need your support or approval to do what I need to do. Independence - I don't need your stinking t-shirt.