Hannibal Cannibal Kids' Fun Run (Or...Intrinsic Motivation is for the Birds--Give Me My Medal!!)

In the previous post, I mentioned signing Jr. up for the kids fun run in Hannibal and my transformation to Mommy Dearest when, after we lost our match and so had to play at the same time as his run, he freaked out and refused to run without me there. Ok, ok...no wire hangers were involved, but it still wasn't my finest moment as a mother.


Jump to Saturday, race day. My husband took me down to the start line before the boys were up, so my first sight of Jr. that day was when they all showed up after the race/before the match. Ever positive, I had packed his race number and t-shirt just in case. J and the boys had run into a friend of ours and their grandson, who Jr. has met maybe twice. A year ago. Yet somehow, he was just fine going over to the race with them. Thank you, God. And K, S, and E.

We won our match pretty quickly, and we were only a block or so from the race, so I ran straight from shaking hands with the other team to the start line.



Because I looked like this, everyone gave me wide berth. Yes, I realize the mud doesn't conceal the love handles. This is how much I love my child, that I'd display my flabby middle just to see him run.

Because they had grouped the kids by age, his group hadn't yet started. I got to walk with him to the start line (though he'd been doing great without me), and see him take off. Like the race earlier, it was very well organized. They sent the kids off in groups of about 6. J got his upper body clean enough to handle the camera and got some shaky video. You'll recognize Jr. by his bright orange shirt and the fact that, as he nears the finish line he apparently says to himself, "Screw this. I'm walking the rest of the way."


Yeah, I know it's lousy video. I don't care. Just for complaining, here's a little more. He chugged that water like he'd been across the desert.


BTW, that's me covered in mud on the right side of the screen.

Since I've been running, Jr's been talking about doing a run, too. He was half planning to run a 1-mile fun run later this month, and agreed to do this one when I realized they had a kid's run. He did the race because he could. But that was all over once they put that medal around his neck. The next time I brought up the 1-miler, he asked, "Do you get a medal?"

"I don't know."

"Can you ask them?"

"Well, it's really more about just seeing if you can do it."

"Yeah, well, I already ran a race. Do you get a medal for this one?"