Kids, Parenting

Hanging up the Cleats

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Our spring soccer season wrapped up last week with two tournament losses. My youngest son’s team went out in the first round, while my oldest son’s team lost a heartbreaker 1-0 in the championship.

For the boys, it didn’t mean much. They’ve had seasons come and go. For me, it was a bittersweet milestone as it marks the end of my time as a soccer coach.

I’ve done this in some capacity for the past four years. I jumped in as an assistant for my older son’s team, eventually serving as his head coach through spring of last year. I loved it. I loved planning drills and thinking about how to organize my team for different opponents. We never won a championship or advanced that far in the tournament, but I liked the kids and seeing them develop over time.

Of course, my older son had a different experience. He didn’t like me coaching and over time he seemed to have less fun playing. The only way he would agree to play this spring was if I agreed not to coach him anymore. I thought about it for awhile and reluctantly agreed. This was about his experience, not mine, and he had a great spring on a new team. He played hard and had fun and wanted to go back for the upcoming fall. Not coaching him was the right call.

Besides, I was still the assistant coach for my younger son’s team. He had very different feelings about me coaching. At times, I couldn’t peel him off of me at practice or on the sidelines. His team was harder to coach because they were so much younger. There was no strategy since we really needed to focus on learning to pass and trying to hold a position on the field. His team was overmatched in many games, but they grew over the course of the season and I enjoyed seeing them look for open-teammates and pass the ball around.

His coach was moving on after the season, but I thought my younger son would continue playing and I would slide into the head coach position for another couple of years. But while my younger son liked having me coach, he really didn’t like soccer. When it came time to register for the fall he was pretty clear he wanted to try something new. I asked a couple of times to make sure, but he didn’t waver. I could have signed him up anyway, but that would have been for me and not for him. As much as I liked coaching them, I had to let it go.

I will miss coaching, but it’s more important that the boys have their own experiences and find their interests. That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, but I understand and know it’s time to move forward. There will be other things I get to share with them, and sometimes it’s better to watch than lead.

My younger son underscored this point well on our way off the field. His team lost, and I tried to offer some comfort:

Me: “I know you lost, but your team played well. You talked to each other and made some passes. You came a long way from… “

Son: “Look at me. I’m a hippo.”

He had shoved the post-game juice box into his mouth and did sort of look like a hippo. More than that, though, he’d already moved on and was ready to go in the backyard and play with his friends. It was just a game, and it was time for a new one. For both of us.

Birding, Kids

Mimicry

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As winter turned to spring, the types of birds at my feeder began to change. The dark-eyed juncos and pine siskins returned to their homes for the breeding season, and brown thrashers and robins came in to take their place. Around the same time, though, a flock of starlings that live in the neighborhood also discovered the feeders.

They are pretty birds, but very hungry. They come in droves and eat everything in sight. Their long bills are not good for most seeds, so they tend to open them like a pair of chopsticks and sift through looking for unshelled sunflower seeds they can eat. It would be fine if they were careful, but they throw everything they don’t like out of the feeder and onto the ground. The squirrels and doves love this, but not me.

Yesterday my youngest child watched them at work and asked what they were and why I didn’t like them as much. I tried to think of a way to explain it so he’d understand.

“Well, you know how when you get a bowl of Chex mix you only like to eat the Chex?” I said.

“Sure. They’re the good part.”

“It’s kind of like that. The starlings like the sunflower seeds so they look for those. But you pick through the Chex mix and leave the pretzels and rye chips for your sister or me to eat. The starlings don’t care and just throw everything they don’t like on the floor”.

His eyes got big and a light bulb I didn’t mean to go off did.

“That’s a great idea. I could throw all that junk on the floor and just eat the Chex.”

I am now constantly on guard at snack time, and I like the starlings a little less than before.

Birding

Who Doesn’t Love Dolly?

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Watching animals, it’s tempting to ascribe human traits and personalities onto them. We give them our anxieties or sense of play, and when they look at us we like to think they understand. In some ways they do, but it is likely in their own way and not ours.

The other night I sat on my back porch listening to music and reading. A duet by Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton, “Just Someone I Used to Know”, came into the rotation and I perked up to listen. I hadn’t heard the song before and was taken by it.

At the same time a carolina wren started singing from the corner of the yard (they’re little birds, but loud). Then he was on a tree nearby, then in the bush at the corner of the porch where he waited, but didn’t sing. A cardinal joined him, hopping out onto the fence close to the house, looking around in a curious way. They didn’t stay long, and both flitted off before the end of the song.

It was probably coincidence, but I like to think that they, like me, were taken in by Dolly Parton singing about a lost love. Based on what little I know about mating patterns in songbirds, they probably know more about it than we do.

Reflections, Running

Time Trial

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Races are just starting to come back, but they look very different. Masks in the starting area, no water on the course, no family at the end. I appreciate the effort, but I haven’t been tempted back yet. I have been training, though, and my coach has set a couple of 5k time trials this spring to gauge my fitness level. I ran the first one yesterday and it went… okay.

Time trials are hard. You’re alone so you have to do all the mental work yourself. There are no pacers, no people to chase or push you. If you doubt your effort or strength on that day, there aren’t on course distractions to pull you back. As you can tell, I don’t like them that much.

The prep was easy. I picked a lightly trafficked stretch of country road near my house. It’s mostly flat, with a few rises to vary the terrain just enough. I set my run as an “out and back” so I just had to make one turn and didn’t need to worry about creating or remembering a course.

Yesterday had good weather, aside from a slight headwind on the back portion. I felt good, and did my warm-ups. Even though I was alone, I still felt some jitters (which felt familiar). I lined up, counted down, and then it was time to press go on the watch and take off.

I started too fast, but pulled my pace back and settled into a rhythm that felt hard but right. First mile down in 6:17. The second mile I felt unsure, and probably let off the gas a bit. I try to go by feel these days and not check the pace on my watch, but I glanced down too much and tried to figure out how I was doing.

I made the turn and started back, but worried a lot. Would I be able to keep the pace up? Was I going too slow? Should I be pushing harder. Second mile down in 6:37. When I saw that, I worried and started glancing at the pace on my watch even more. I tried to move my legs faster, but the wind picked up and when the pace didn’t move, or slowed down, I started to feel discouraged.

I pushed up and over rise, knowing I only had one more to go. My legs had tired, and my breathing was labored, less calm that I wanted it to be. Pushing over the last rise I kept glancing at the pace, hoping to see it drift down and trying to forecast my time. Third mile down in 6:27.

The math in a 5k always throws me off. I can loosely figure out how I will come out of the third mile, but I don’t know how to translate the time I need to cover the last 100m. Somehow, it always takes longer than I think. I saw telephone pole that passed for my finish line up ahead and tried to increase my turnover. “Maybe I could break 20 minutes,” I thought… I hoped. There’s nothing special about that barrier, but it would feel good to break it. So I crossed the line, hit the stop button on my watch, and came to a halt. I looked down at my time and saw 20:02:52, just over the line.

For whatever reason, I felt discouraged. I had run a 5k on the track in December, clocking a 20:09, so I had improved. And in truth, I only started worrying about a goal in the last mile of the trial so it seemed strange to feel like I let myself down. I have run under 19 minutes before on hillier courses so I wondered if age was catching up to me or that I haven’t been training well.

Those faster times were in races, though, and I remember thinking a lot less in them. They were also not at the end of a long year in quarantine and in the middle of a stressful time at work. I’m being less hard on myself today, as it should be.

I have more of these check-in’s to improve my time, and this served as a good reminder of how nice it will feel to be on a real starting line again one day. Racing in a crowd is taxing, too, but it comes with an energy and pressure to perform that can help push you farther than you can on your own. I look forward to feeling that again.

Parenting

Wednesday = Rest Day?

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I have a pretty set schedule for what types of runs I do on which days of the week. Wednesday is my rest day, the one day with nothing on the schedule. It’s good physically to rest, but over time it has become a mental rest for me as well. I can sleep in a little and with a rested body my mind is a little sharper as well.

Of course, Wednesday has also been deemed an “asynchronous learning” day by our local school system. It’s only recently that my kids have gone back to school in-person (thanks, COVID), but even when they do they stay home on Wednesdays for remote learning.

Having my older kids home is not that big a deal. The oldest son does his work and tries to sneak YouTube in between classes, while my daughter has gotten into the back catalog of “Dance Moms” episodes on her breaks (which is more distracting than I thought). Both let me focus on work and rest.

My youngest, though, tends to plow through his assigned work and then ruminate on the mysteries of the universe. At any given point in the day I can turn from my desk to see him staring up with a concerned look on his face. A random set of challenging questions usually follows, no matter what I am doing. Here’s a sample.

  • Could we build something to move the solar system out of the galaxy to go to a new one?
  • Can I have Chex Mix?
  • What are NTD’s (neglected tropical diseases) and can I get one?
  • How long do you think it will be until robots take our jobs?
  • Could Superman outrun the Flash?
  • Were you alive when the continents split apart?
  • Could Superman beat Black Panther in a fight?
  • Can I have Chex Mix now?

I want to encourage his curiosity, but between tackling my own work and trying to keep up with his mind, Wednesdays are a lot less restful than they used to be.

Birding, Parenting

Vindication, like Nature, Can Be Rough

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This past December my youngest child and I watched a hawk in our yard, and after I went back inside he swears he saw it swoop and eat something, but we were never sure.

This past week my daughter and I saw another (or possibly the same) red-shouldered hawk swoop from a tree onto our patio, grab a lizard, and take it back into the trees for a snack. I thought he would be excited, and maybe a little vindicated. But I wasn’t prepared for his reaction.

Me: “Hey, C! Do you know what I saw today?”

C: “No, what?”

Me: “A hawk fly down to the patio, grab a lizard, and eat it. So you probably did see something like that in December.”

C: (Horrified) “HE ATE MINI?!?”

Me: “Who’s Mini?”

C: (Still horrified) “Mini. There’s a lizard that lives on the patio and I named it Mini. The hawk ate it?”

Me: “Maybe it was a snake. I don’t really know.”

It was the best pivot I could think of in the moment. I think he got over it quickly, but I didn’t want to ask. Sometimes confirmation is overrated.

Reflections, Training

Acceptance

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I’ve taken the last three days off from running. No injuries, but my energy was low, work stress high, and it seemed right to rest. I will get back to it tomorrow. Usually after a break, even from my rest day, my body is jittery and needs the energy burn of exercise. This time is different. This time my body is calm and willing to return, but not expecting release or relief. I could ask a number of “what if’s” though I think it’s better to leave it alone.

Cat

Similarities

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Sometimes Fleur sits by the front door, staring through the side panes at whatever squirrel or bird happens by. Her head may drop and her ears fold back, ready to pounce. It’s the same place, the same position Mina used to take. They are very different cats with different temperaments, yet though they never met they favor the same cushions and views.

Cat, Izzy

Kitten At First Sight (Guest POst)

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This week is a guest post from my daughter about getting our cat in the fall of 2019. Enjoy!

Fleur is 1 ½ years old, and she is a beautiful black cat. We got her from the Wake County ASPCA, where she was spayed and was cared for, although she wasn’t born there. There were many other cats at the ASPCA, but we leaned towards getting another black cat because our first cat was a black cat that sadly passed away. There was another cat named “Toothless” and had a weak immune system (he was also a black cat). There was a cat named “Celery” that was also really adorable. We saw her on the website and wanted her until she got adopted. Her sister Plum was still at the ASPCA when we went but she was getting something done so she wasn’t in the adopting room. Fleur was very shy when we met her and had a whole glammed up pink cage (pink was everywhere with Fleur). We finally knew it was gonna be Floret (her original name at the ASPCA) all the way! She was a perfect kitten at first sight!

A lucky picture! I got Fleur! it just goes to show how adorable she is.

Uncategorized

The Backyard Hawk(s)

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One afternoon back in December my youngest child barreled into the house out of breath and very excited. He had been buzzed by a hawk that had flown low through our backyard and settled in a tree by our driveway. He wanted to show it to me and rushed me to put on my shoes and follow. When I went outside he jumped up and down and pointed to show me a very calm red-shouldered hawk perched in a pine tree looking down at us.

Red-shouldered hawk, photo by me.

My older kids and their friends on the alley played basketball nearby (quite loudly) but the hawk didn’t seem to care. My youngest son and I laid back on the driveway to take in everything we could. We have a number of hawks in our area, but they only occasionally hang out in our yard. He and I examined the feathers and talons through binoculars and the camera, talked about what the hawk might think of us, and basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

I eventually went inside, but he stayed and watched some more. Within five minutes he barreled into the house again to tell me that he had seen the hawk swoop down, pick up a mouse, fly back up to the branch, drop the mouse, re-capture it, then devour it whole. He was very excited and I told him I wished I’d seen it. Of course, a few minutes later the story had changed: first the meal switched from a mouse to a lizard, then from a lizard to a snake, then back to a mouse. I’m not sure what exactly he saw, but I am glad he was excited about it and thought to share it with me.

I want my kids to love nature and to be curious about it. Like a campfire, though, it’s hard to find the balance between kindling an interest and smothering it. I can’t count the times they have asked a question about an animal or plant and I have jumped in with facts and explanations only to see them lose interest. I’ve learned to try and offer less, and let them ask more questions when they have them (in truth, I’m still working on this).

There are cases like this hawk, though, where our interest levels align and we get to share a moment like this one. Our youngest finds raptors fascinating, and this was the first time he got to see one up close in the wild. I’m glad he got that experience and that he thought to spring me into the moment. I was surprised my older children weren’t as interested, but let it go and left them to their basketball game. They don’t like to learn as much or watch animals for as long as their little brother, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t picked something up.

Yesterday when they took our dog for a walk they saw a hawk perched on the neighbor’s fence. They stopped to watch until it tired of being the show and flew off. When they came home they were excited and had big smiles as they talked about it. I was glad to listen, grateful for their joy and the sense of awe they felt (though they probably wouldn’t describe it that way).

I like to think as a parent I instilled some of that in them, but it’s probably more of a natural human reaction. These are beautiful birds and it’s hard not to feel something when you come across them, whether in a forest or in your backyard. I hope they always keep their eyes open like that, and that they never stop sharing what they see with me.

Running through life with my wife and three kids…