Friday, October 31, 2014

Ten Tips For Cross Country Parents

I love cross country running. Whoa there, Speedy Gonzalez -- I love cross country running for my kids, not for me! Running is hard. Running hurts. It hurts when you practice doing it, it hurts when you're actually doing it, and then, it hurts for days after. Or, if you're 52 years old like me, it hurts for months after doing it, because you've torn a hamstring and can't recall where or how. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you'll feel when you try to explain that to a medical professional?

But I digress, because really, from a parent's perspective, cross country is a terrific sport. Trust me. Sure it's hard, and it hurts, but have you ever had a kid wrestle? I have. Every match, I had to choose: Shall I hyperventilate or asphyxiate today? Because there was no way I could draw a normal breath as some mini-Hulk Hogan put a move on my kid.

Ever had a kid play baseball? Not as physical as wrestling, of course, but baseball is a sport without a clock, folks, which sounds charming enough until you remember that you've got bills to pay, beds to change, meals to make, and oh yeah, other kids who know how to dial DSS if you don't at least occasionally check in on them.

Ever had a kid play soccer? Right -- that just makes you and every other American parent of the 21st century -- and all of you are sure that, among the swarm of shinguard-sporting magnet ball players, yours is the next Mia Hamm. Let me know how that goes for you.

Seriously. Cross country is perfect. Not too physical. Pretty darn quick. And when you get down to it, your kid is really racing against herself, so if she beats her previous time, she's a winner -- and you get to scoot along home.

There are pitfalls, though. I've been a cross country mom for eight seasons now, so believe me when I say that there are a few rules you'll need to follow.

1)  Race courses are pretty wide open, so when you arrive at the event, you'll be able to walk right up to your child. DO NOT DO THIS. If you must acknowledge your runner, do so from a distance. Behave as if you may have met before but are not quite sure. Only after making eye contact should you try to determine whether she wants you to approach. That's it. So now you think she wants you to approach? You are wrong.

2) Observe your runner from a safe distance. Did he warm up sufficiently? Are his laces tied? Should he be doing something to hydrate? Should he look that relaxed? Should he look that tense? Why is he acting exactly like everyone else? Why isn't he acting exactly like everyone else? Stop. Here's a rule of thumb: For every question you ask before a race, your runner will blame you for adding 10 seconds to his finishing time. Don't do it.

3) Cross country races tend to begin right on time. Give yourself time to get to the starting line, and set your watch. Do NOT attempt eye contact with your runner. Do NOT call your runner by name.

4) At the gun (the start of the race), start your watch. Again, do NOT call out your runner's name. Although she wouldn't actually hear you, another parent might, which would ruin your runner's entire life.  Do not cheer other runners by name, either. You may, however, cheer the team because, as noted, your runner will not hear you.

5) After the runners pass, you will see parents "in the know" walk hurriedly in another direction. Follow them. They know the course and know where you'll be able to spot your runner mid-course. One thousand, two hundred and twenty-three runners will pass before you finally see your runner. Just when you worry that you must have missed him and that he has already crossed the finish line, you will see him. At this point, remember the rule of NO engagement The only POSSIBLE exception to the rule of NO engagement is photography. For most parents, this is ill-advised. Proceed at your own risk.

6) Find the finish line. Other parents may know additional spots where you can spot your runner along the course; however, they also then know how to sprint over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house before catching the final seconds of the race. Don't risk it. Get thee to the finish line.

7) Note the time as your runner crosses. Do NOT note as she grimaces, hobbles, and limps through the final chute.

8) Find your runner. Have water. Have a towel. He will not accept either, but that's not the point. These are merely good-parenting props. Your runner may, in a lapse of exhaustion-induced insanity, deign to speak to you. He may ask, "How did I do?" Even though you will know the precise time of his finish, there is only one possible response: "That was a strong finish!"

9) Post race, your runner will be required to do warm downs and hydrate. She may even have to endure speeches from the coach. She will be hungry and thirsty. She will be hot and sticky. Offer to help with her bags. Remember, she will not appreciate your thoughtfulness. You make this offer only to know that you did the right thing in front of other parents.

10) As your runner hobbles to the car, he may finally speak to you -- to remind you of how awful cross country is. In this case, revert to number one -- acknowledge him from as much distance as you can wrangle inside of a car. Do not attempt to engage. If you think he wants you to engage, you will be wrong.

On the upside, though, the whole thing took something like 30 minutes -- giving you plenty of time to get home and and throw together something super simple like this "Green Pasta."

"Green" Pasta

I've prepared a number of "Green Pasta" versions this cross country season, but this one is our favorite, especially when served with grilled chicken tenders.

2 cups of uncooked ditalini pasta

2 cups of small broccoli f1orets
3-4 cups of baby spinach leaves, chopped

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 zucchini, cut in a small dice
1 garlic clove, minced
red pepper flakes

juice from half a lemon
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 can chicken broth

Bring a large pot of well-salted water (it should taste like the ocean) to a boil. Stir in pasta, cooking until almost done. In the meantime, heat olive oil in a heavy skillet over high heat. When rippling, stir in zucchini, garlic and a light sprinkling of red pepper flakes. Sauté until zucchini is lightly browned.

Just before the pasta is done cooking, stir in broccoli. Cook two minutes, drain, and return to pan. Toss spinach with hot pasta until wilted. Stir in zucchini mixture. Stir in lemon juice, oregano and about half the can of chicken broth. Adjust seasoning. Add more chicken broth, according to your preference. Serve hot or at room temperature.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

The Beginning Of The End.


A few days ago, Julia ran her last high school cross country meet here in Charlotte. And hoo boy, she sure wrapped things up in style. Far and away her best race of the season, Julia's time cemented her spot on the team going to States. In fact, it put her on the school's all-time top 25. As a team captain, she's worked hard -- insanely disciplined with her training, nutrition, sleep, and leadership. The results speak for themselves. I stand in awe.

Friday, she'll run her last race in Hendersonville, NC. And as she crosses that finish line, I'll check one more thing off my "last ever" list.

For better or worse, it's habit. I don't think of myself as particularly sentimental or sappy, but for 17 years, I've mentally noted and lamented the "last" time she rode in an infant car seat, her last day in preschool, the last time she let me to read to her before bed, the last I held her hiked up on my hip, the last time I drove her home from a meet, because she wasn't yet old enough to drive herself.

Now, though, during her senior year, the "lasts" are relentless. I've snapped my last "first day of school" picture. She's pinned on her last homecoming boutonniere. I've attended my last "meet the teachers" evening. She's about to submit her last college application.

I should be happy, but as one "last" after the other slaps me upside the head, I often find myself blinking back tears.

She's my "last" baby. The last one I felt kicking and hiccuping inside of me. The last one I potty-trained (she made it easy). The last one I taught to ride a bike, and then, in a blink, the last one to get a driver's license.

Together, we'll mark a lot of "lasts" as she navigates her final year of high school, not the least of which will be 212 days, 23 hours, and 52 minutes from now, when she'll don a cap and gown, and walk confidently across a stage and into her future.

I want to make it last.

Quinoa Kale Salad
One delightful consequence of cross country training is that we're eating healthier than ever Chez Wiles. This salad is a current favorite.

1 cup quinoa
2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
3-4 cups raw kale, chopped fine
1/2 red bell pepper, chopped
1/2 yellow bell pepper, chopped
1 cup pinenuts
1 clove garlic, grated
1 teaspoon grated ginger
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons light-tasting vinegar (rice or champagne, for example)
1 teaspoon dark sesame oil
kosher salt
fresh ground pepper

In a small lidded saucepan, bring quinoa and broth to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer, covered, until done. (About 15 minutes.) Toss quinoa with kale, and allow to cool to room temperature. Stir in chopped bell pepper and pine nuts. In a separate small bowl, whisk together remaining ingredients to make a dressing, and stir into quinoa mixture. Serve at room temperature or chilled.