- 2018 — I ran solo
- 2019 — I ran solo
- 2020 — Jack ran his first Cirque Series race at age 7
- 2021–2026 — continued racing together
In 2018, I started trail running. I was in an intense breakdown of my life. A total reset, after a divorce which happened suddenly and unexpectedly. Shocked and dismembered.
The mountain held me as my feet moved over the dust. Trees talking—giving me understanding and reassurance. Breathing in the forest ions, cleansing me as I grappled with the tectonic shifts of my reality. The steady cadence soothed my heart, and the movement kept me from cracking.
I found a trail race called Cirque Series and decided to test myself in an organized fashion. To be in community; to witness and be witnessed.
My first race, I surprised myself with a finish well above the middle of the pack. I was in my late thirties and considered myself way past my athletic prime. So, I made it a goal to finish in the top ten my first season. Three races later, i found myself finishing the longest, hottest, hardest course at #7 in my division. The following race, i was shocked in a completely different way to be awarded the On Running award, which was given to the “most inspirational runner” and in the hotel room the next morning, I wrote a piece called Push Peaks to commemorate the moment.
After two seasons running 10 races on my own, I brought my 7 year old son Jack to run with me on his birthday (7/7). He was the first seven year old to complete a Cirque Series and we continued running every race together for the next several years. Sometimes just one race a year but we kept the tradition going. Rather than trying to podium, it became a bonding experience and we received many profound life lessons, articulated in the form of trail metaphor. I didn’t care about testing how high I could place; i just wanted to spend quality time with my son, testing our limits.
Last year, I signed up for two races, now sponsored by Natures Sunshine. On the last race, Jack had an injury and had to sit it out. It happened to be that this race was on my birthday weekend. I felt a sense of untethered freedom to run on my own for the first time in 6 years. I was curious to see how I’d do, much older now.
For whatever reason, I started at the back of the pack with a group of friends. I surprised myself again as I just kept passing people and placed way ahead of the position I put myself to start. I still had it in me, I guess.
This year, Jack is 13 and I’m 45. This year, we will run at our own pace for the first time. A rite of passage. To let Jack test himself without his dad at his side (even sometimes carrying him on my back, or he hanging on the straps of my backpack). And, for me… to run without holding back. To feel what I can do on my own.
And who knows… will we run future races at our own pace? Will we run them side by side? Will he even want to continue running at all?
I know trail running has been my thing. It became our thing. And it maybe one day, it could just become my thing again.
Following up to last post, Jack and I were set to run a race as individuals. A right of passage where we ran at our own pace for the first time.
But things didn’t exactly unfold as planned.
The morning of the race we somehow slept through our alarm and in our rush. I tried to have Jack follow our usual nutrition protocols, but he refused to eat. He told me that he drank a Red Bull and he’d be fine. He said he knows his body. I told him he needs carbohydrates, protein and hydration. We got to the race. I asked him to go to warm-up. He told me his warm-up was running from the car to get our bib. After getting a quick warm-up, I came back and said “Alright, how are you feeling?”, “Where’s your phone?”
He told me how he didn’t wanna be bothered with carrying his phone during the race so he left it in the car and refused to go get it. We started to form up with the field of runners to start the race. He said to me “I’m scared bro. I’m not that fast.”
As the countdown began, I could feel his fear creeping up. I knew there were a lot of safety crew and volunteers in this sanctioned race and we’ve ran this same course many times. but I wasn’t sure how he was gonna be able to handle it without proper preparations. As we took off, I could immediately feel myself restraining. Those words he said haunted me.
As much as I wanted to challenge myself, and let him push his limits, I didn’t feel he was quite ready. And I wasn’t sure I was either.
But I still wanted him to have the feeling of facing this challenge on his own. So I took off at an easy pace and let myself feel the rush of running along side people pushing their limits.
I decided quickly that I was gonna wait at the next aid station for him and watch him from a distance. When he got there, I popped out and surprised him.
From there, we had the most enjoyable race of all. His favorite. My favorite.
We were not the hare; we were the rabbit.
We took in grand views. Talked to other runners. I stopped for an unofficial hydration station and had a few sips of beer. He had some energy chews.
We sat and talked. We hiked. And eventually made our way down to the bottom. I wanted to at least get there for the awards ceremony and raffle, so I pushed him towards the end to make it in time for the festivities, and we slid in with a few minutes to spare, separately. Cause I wasn’t gonna miss it, and I knew he was fine at that point.
As they announced through the various awards, they got to the part where the race founder talked about the Lexie award—the unofficial MVP of the race. I was surprised and humbled when he started to talk about a father and son duo.
Somehow, we found ourselves on the podium, together, afterall.