|Wyatt performs on the Rodrigue Steinway|
Photo credit: Elizabeth Janke
Like any mom of a middle school aged son, I fear the day that I'm no longer cool to hang out with, and my words are no longer wise. Answers to questions become vague and repetitive...How was your day? Same as yesterday.
As our first week of training came to a close, I realized something. My son and I talked more that week than we had the entire month of December. For ninety minutes, six days a week, he's mine.
Between sprints I hear all sorts of plans: Dad said Wyatt and I can build a pump track in the yard this summer! I might hear about new bike parts: I'm doing away with the red. I'm going all silver... What do you think? He has grand ideas too: Wouldn't it be cool if I could go to school with all of my BMX friends?
My favorite training day is when we head to Doak Campbell, home of the Florida State Seminoles. There, it's just my son and me, with the ghosts of sweat, fear and hope laying heavy in the air. As he climbs repeatedly to the top, I watch his legs tremble, and I know he's giving it all he's got.
Some mornings, I drag William out of bed early to train before school. These are the times I have to get ugly. I thought you said you could do pull-ups! What do you call those? Give me five more! That's IT! I'm DONE!
Then a tired voice says, "Wait Mom!"
I finish with the same speech every time...
Do you think I'm out here for MY benefit??
Well, maybe I am.
Happy BMX New Year!