Last week, on the last day of school, Jordan got into the car with some certificates from awards day. She handed me the one she was "most proud of"--a certificate for athletics. I scanned it as I came to a stop sign, and I at first thought she had won an award for being the most athletic. This immediately caused flashbacks to childhood, during which I was pretty much the slowest and most non-athletic kid in the class. I was in slightly better shape as I entered high school, but mostly still just skinny and completely devoid of grace. And pretty much almost always picked last for gym class. (See an old blog post about that.) Because of these unpleasant memories, I decided right then and there a photo of Jordan's certificate would be going up on Facebook, so all my former classmates could see that my kid was nothing like I was. She had hope!
As I came to a stoplight, I read the certificate more closely and realized that she had actually ran the mile in gym class in just over 9:30, which was almost a minute below the "president's time" (I presume this was for the President's Physical Fitness test, but I am not entirely sure). I asked Jordan who else got a certificate, and she said that she and one other boy were the only two in second grade. Which means my kid is the fastest girl in second grade. Big grin. Proud mama. Excuse me for bragging.
As a (sort of) runner, this accomplishment made me so happy. Which then caused a flashback to a more recent memory. When I first starting running 5ks while at my last job in the early 2Ks, a coworker said to another coworker/fellow runner/good friend that she could not believe that I was running (presumably because I am clearly not graceful and I am certainly not small) and had gotten some trophies to boot. I thought about that comment off and on for years, but eventually forgot about it, particularly when I started running again while pushing 40 (and, let's face it, because my memory is pretty much like a sieve). But when J came home with that certificate, for some odd reason, that memory came back, and it was like validation.
I don't pretend to make a lot of sense. Or to be particularly normal. But sometimes it is nice to be a winner. And it is even cooler as a parent when your kid does something you, a super skinny kid, never did at that age. Yeah, J!