Cathy and I watched Patrick's first high school track meet on Tuesday. The last time I saw Patrick run in any manner was about this time last year when we played basketball for a Father-Son end of season basketball game. Since then, Patrick has perfected his pokey-puppy stroll of his younger days.
His first run at 100 meters was OK. Lest we one day forget, the dash is recorded here by memory of what I saw from 100 meters away. PT, never one to make a specticle of himself, gingerly loosened up his limbs. No jumping. No quick starts out of the blocks for practice. Just a little bending of the legs and stretching of the arms. If the muscles and tendons loosened, I don't know how. Surely they were slightly looser than Patricks mind. Patrick projects his nervousness of impending doom with frustration. More like his Dad and nothing like his Mom. Aaron was similar, but with sports he bottled up the nerves differently than his brother.
PT came down from the bleachers, right by Cathy and me at the finish line. He was ready to go to the starting line at the last call for his event. Without his running shoes on his feet or in his hands, Patrick asked "Where do I go?" We suggested to go to the starting end of the track. He agreed that would be smart. "What about your shoes?" I called out. "Oh, yeah" He went back in the bleachers to find his shoes; a pair of Aaron's white with red swoosh track shoes. They're well worn with Aaron's foot prints. I like to feel the places where his toes grooved their positions.
With eyes down the track we saw Patrick finally enter the starting blocks in what appeared to be lane 2. When the gun went off, Patrick says he flinched. I thought he got out fine. Within a few strides, PT veered to his right into lane 4, then back to lane 2. He spotted the rest of the runners a pretty good head start, and eventually closed the gap on the front runners, even passing a couple of guys, in addition to the fellow in lane 4. As he passed us, Cathy shouted some words of encouragement. Something like "Way to go Patrick!" I took in all of the unique experience of seeing my little, six foot tall, boy running, and with surprisingly quick strides. It's been 3 seasons since I've seen those shoes moving and the picture was bitter sweet.
Patrick's next race was a 4 x 100. We scanned the track looking for him. Not there. One-half of Patrick's foursome didn't find there way to the start. Maybe next time.
Before Patrick's race, we watched the hurdlers. Aaron was a talent in the hurdles. His first run was as a frosh at an indoor invitational. With long legs and a good stride he placed for the team. A letter winner in both Frosh and Soph seasons, Aaron placed 3rd in conference his Sophomore year. Gaining strength and skill, he would have been a force by his senior year. Aaron was gone to Mount Bachelor for his Junior season. His downfall began with poor choices he made with fellow athletes.
Aaron paid the price, made huge strides in his life and asked for a chance to participate or practice with the team. I listened to his phone call and conversation. Aaron's request was heard. He was told that the request would be taken up with whomever. The request was never answered. I don't know the politics that went into the DAHS decision and Aaron never heard back on his request. I'm proud of him though. Aaron showed courage in asking. Aaron never turned his back on people.
Aaron knew he did wrong and accepted that the people in charge might not welcome him back. Aaron didn't hold a grudge. His Dad did.
Tom
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