We warmed up, we stretched, we checked out the competition (that would be each other), and we were off. After the long stretch of steep switchbacks I had a slight lead because said son was too proud to speed walk the steepest hills instead of running them, "Efficiency the old man cried."
About half way up (it's about 2.5 miles) I remembered I hadn't stretch my back so I stopped briefly, son passed me a got a lead. When I caught back up to him, after much suffering given the stretching caused my back to seize up, he said:
"Old man you're killing me."
And that made all the pain worth it, even pleasurable.
6 comments:
you go, old man! think how old i'm going to be when I can engage in a competitive foot race with soon-to-be son/daughter. i better just give up now.
This is a wonderful story in all regards. Impressive, old man, that you can beat a teenager. But also that he'd want to do this with you--impressive in a whole different way. Well done.
Yes, hilarious and heart warming. I just can't wait until Son will play tennis with me.
Kids these days.
Excellent story. I'm pretty sure though that my Son will never be able to take me in basketball, especially since I plan on not really aging from this day forward. I'll be sure to report on it if, if, it happens.
Do you know, btw, the Donald Hall poem "My Son, My Executioner." It's a great poem.
My son, my executioner
I take you in my arms
Quiet and small and self assured
And whom my body warms.
Sweet death, small son
Our instrument of immortality
Your cries of hunger document
Our bodily decay.
We twenty five and twenty two
Who seemed to live forever
Observe enduring life in you
And start to die together.
I just typed that from memory. A little vestige of my youthful obsession with poetry.
Awesome. I find nowadays that I'm always rooting for the older tennis players, boxers, bikers.... Not because I'm getting old and I can identify or anything. I'm just saying.
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