Track Mom

Yesterday was the conference meet. It was the best of days. It was the worst of days. The day was sunny and windy and the familiar road to the school was long but pleasant through miles of farmland. I've been there many times before yesterday. I resisted the urge to follow the many garage sale signs along the way. The school where the meet was held is the site of many memories over the last four years, some of them good, some not. The host team is our favorite (?) rival. This meet was a bit of a grudge match between us and them, the other seven teams were insignificant. So, there we were for the last time and the day started off badly for my son and teammates. There were bad jumps and worse hand-offs and even the best of our boys posted less than their best times. My son left his last event alone, walking around the track, head down, disappointed at his performance. He almost caught that guy in the final leg of the relay. The relay team came in second by a fraction of a second. There were no team hugs and celebrations, just discouragement. I felt the agony of defeat for my son. It's tough being a mom sometimes.
The mood changed when the boys team won the conference title. The victory margin was slim but it's not how much you win by, but that you come out on top that counts. A win is a win is a win. There was joy at the end. And my son ran a personal best and he knows that his time goals are definitely within his reach. And to top it off, I left his car at the school for him (and walked home) so he and his teammates could go out and celebrate and plan and dream for the next meet, the sectionals. There is still disapoinment but there is also hope.