Don’t Give Up

I coach a group of 28 third through fifth grader boys training for a 5k. This is our third week of training, but due to single-degree temps and almost double-digit inches of snow and ice, all of our training has been inside. This means dozens of boys bouncing off the walls of a too-small gym and careening around the corners of their elementary school hallways.

As the older boys check in at the start of practice, the conversation sounds like this:

“Inside or outside, coach?”

“Outside.”

“Really? Outside? Finally! Yes!”

Sure, it’s still only 35 degrees, but the sun is shining and the sidewalks have (mostly) melted over the weekend. Did I mention the sun is shining?

We rush through our warmups and have a quick safety meeting.

“Okay, boys, this is our first time running outside this year. I want to remind y’all about our commitment contract,” I start. They’re vibrating with energy. “Who remembers what we said about safety?”

Half a dozen hands shoot up.

“Stay on the sidewalk.”

“Don’t go in the road.”

“Stay off the ice.”

“If there is ice, run like a penguin.”

I remind them how important it is to stay with one of the coaches. We’re only running an out-and-back, but the last thing I need is to lose one of our kiddos.

We do our best to separate the kids into ability groups. Some will be able to run the whole time. Others, hard as it is to believe based on their inability to sit still, won’t have the stamina to run for 25 minutes. They will alternate running four minutes and walking one minute at various paces.

The kids are too excited. They are a herd, pressing against the door, straining against an invisible leash.

Until we actually start running. Immediately, one boy stops running and begins to walk.

“C’mon, buddy, let’s try to run for four minutes. Not fast. Just a slow jog.”

He huffs and shakes his head. “I can’t.”

This is the child who won’t slow down in the gym when we ask him to, who can’t stop moving to listen to directions. Now he just wants to stop.

“Sure you can, D. Let’s just try to jog to that sign.” He’s persistent, though. He’s not going to move faster than a walk. I cycle through my coaching tricks. Distraction. Encouragement. Challenges. Jokes.

I see another boy walking even slower than us, holding his throat. “D, what about running with J?” Maybe partnering up will help, I think.

“What’s up, J, your throat hurt?” I ask.

“It’s too cold,” he whimpers.

These kids are Michigan Tough. They go outside and play at recess in temps A LOT colder than 35. But he’s near tears.

I’m a high school teacher, I think. I’m don’t know how to handle this.

I keep encouraging, cajoling, and anything else I can think of to help them through the workout, but I finish exhausted. Tired not from the “running” but from the frustration and my own failure.

The race is in 8 weeks. Experience tells me that the boys who put the work in will be successful and that race day will be an awesome celebration of their dedication. That gives me hope.