{"id":18071,"date":"2020-08-01T09:00:00","date_gmt":"2020-08-01T13:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sasee.wpenginepowered.com\/?post_type=essay&p=18071"},"modified":"2024-03-26T15:08:39","modified_gmt":"2024-03-26T19:08:39","slug":"the-race-of-ages","status":"publish","type":"essay","link":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/essay\/the-race-of-ages\/","title":{"rendered":"The Race of Ages"},"content":{"rendered":"

Her face contorted with noiseless laughter, so deep I worried a lack of oxygen might damage her brain.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The line in the dirt had been drawn. On one side stood my husband, the official of the race, assisted by our excited seven-year-old. Her hands cupped her mouth. \u201cYou can do it, Mommy!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the other side of the finish line, I eyed the expanse of gravel separating me from a coveted victory 25 yards away. Then I sized up my competition\u2013my daughter Kelli, a scrawny 62-pound tween with legs like a gazelle. I looked down at my own legs, two sausages in shorts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She must have sensed my moment of doubt. \u201cYou\u2019re going down old lady.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I put on my game face. \u201cDon\u2019t be so sure little girl. When I was your age, I was the second fastest girl in my grade, only \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2014 Sandy Allen was faster.\u201d Kelli finished the familiar declaration. \u201cYeah, yeah. Ancient history.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A smile broke her competitive fa\u00e7ade. She clearly enjoyed disrespecting her elder in the name of competition. But she was right. That was ancient history. And with 40 staring me in the face, I felt pretty ancient. Why had I agreed to this? Could I even make it to the finish line? More importantly, could I make it to the finish line without injury? I leaned into a lunge to warn my leg muscles what was ahead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kelli laughed. \u201cWhat are you doing, Mom?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStretching.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not stretching. This is stretching.\u201d She grabbed her ankle and bent her leg back at the knee until her tennis shoe touched her shorts, perfectly balanced on one leg like a flamingo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I lunged on the opposite side, centering my weight, trying not to tip. \u201cYou sure you\u2019re ready for this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She moved into starting position. \u201cYep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She may have been ready to cross the finish line first, but I wasn\u2019t ready for her to claim a victory. This race was about more than the win. Stuck between a little girl and a teenager, Kelli was running from childhood. As for me, a new decade loomed ahead. In spite of my fear of bodily harm or humiliation, I was running to beat middle age. This would be an important win \u2013 for one of us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I joined Kelli at the starting line, twisting the toe of my back foot into the gravel for traction. My husband stood beyond the finish line, his arms spread wide. The first to slap his palm would be the winner. Our youngest daughter bellowed with exhilaration. \u201cReady!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kelli and I exchanged a final glare of feigned intimidation. I winked and fixed my sites on the finish line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSet!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a breath\u2026possibly the last one I\u2019d get for the next 25 yards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGo!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My back leg thrust my body forward as my front foot reached ahead to grab ground and push it behind me. But, somehow my weight had tripled. My leg muscles mutinied as I strained to keep up with Kelli floating beside me. She edged ahead. Five steps in; my body, age, and common sense declared the race was over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I was determined the pain I\u2019d feel in the morning wouldn\u2019t be for nothing. I locked onto my target, my husband\u2019s outstretched left hand. \u201cRun, Mommy, run!\u201d mixed with the crunching of gravel beneath my feet. I pushed. I plodded. I plowed ahead. Then suddenly, my body caught up with the forward momentum. Each step came easier. Each stride stretched farther. The gap between my age and my daughter\u2019s youth began to narrow. Kelli glanced back and shifted gears, to no avail. A few more steps and our shoulders were even.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The finish line zoomed into focus. My youngest daughter squealed. My husband\u2019s hand fluttered, encouraging me to reach it. Did they think I could win? Were the years still on my side?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My legs reached forward with force and purpose. I was half a step ahead of Kelli\u2026a full step ahead! Then\u2026she disappeared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t look back. The finish line rushed toward me. The sting from a palm-on-palm slap declared my victory. My little one danced in circles. \u201cMommy, you did it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lungs burning, I turned to see Kelli, but she still hadn\u2019t crossed the finish line. She was bent over, hand covering her mouth, shaking with laughter. She attempted a few steps toward us but stumbled and lowered herself to the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her little sister galloped to her. \u201cWhat\u2019s so funny?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kelli shook her head as tears bubbled over and rolled down her flushed cheeks. We chuckled too, although we didn\u2019t know why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Breathlessly, Kelli forced words between giggles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom\u2019s bu\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom\u2019s butt\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt jiggled so much!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her face contorted with noiseless laughter, so deep I worried a lack of oxygen might damage her brain. Finally, she sucked in a breath and looked up with awe. \u201cSeriously, Mom. I\u2019ve never seen anything jiggle like your butt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to be offended, but a smile broke through my gasps for air. After all, my derriere was attached to me. I felt the big Jello earthquake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I playfully slapped away the hand she had extended for me to hoist her to her feet. \u201cBut I jiggled faster than you ran\u2026and that makes me the winner!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo fair!\u201d She scrambled up on her own. \u201cYou didn\u2019t win. I couldn\u2019t finish. I was laughing too hard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, it\u2019s fair. Fair and square.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She took her protest to the official of the race. \u201cDad!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He held up both hands and shrugged. Smart man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I put my arm around her shoulder and squeezed. \u201cIt\u2019s OK. You didn\u2019t have a chance. I was the second fastest girl in my grade when I was young.\u201d
           
\u201cYeah, yeah.\u201d She rolled her eyes and grinned. \u201cSomeday we\u2019re gonna race again, and I\u2019m gonna win.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My screaming legs assured me we would not compete again. But as I leaned into my daughter and the top of her head reached my chin, my heart warned me someday she would indeed win the race.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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