Soccer

When I was pregnant with Alex, before the kick, before his premature birth, before months of his hospitalization and doctors telling us he might never walk, Erik and I used to talk about coaching Alex's 3 year old soccer team. We assumed he would love sports as much as we do and would want to play soccer as soon as he could. So, this spring, we signed him up, even though he is only 2 1/2 and his balance is so poor. We figured, why not.

Last weekend, he had his first practice. All week he talked about soccer and meeting his soccer coach and the fact that he and Daddy were a team and he was excited to meet the other kids, especially since he doesn't have much interaction with kids his own age. His first practice came on a sunny day, and he could not wait to get there. Once on the field, he did his best to follow the coaches instructions and try to balance well enough to dribble the ball, and stop it with his foot (holding Daddy's hand for balance) and to be part of the little scrimmage the team had. It was hysterical, watching all the little kids scurry around after the ball, get distracted by butterflies and sippy cups, then wander back into the game. For Alex, it was a blast. For us, it was a dream fulfilled.

This past weekend, it was hot and Alex wanted to swim, not play soccer. Several other kids felt the same way and the whole team kind of drifted off the field in many directions. But it was so much fun, just to be out there again, with all these little characters.

My training is taking off. With less than four months to the race, we are building distance. Three hours on the bike Saturday morning before soccer practice. A long run on Sunday. It is extremely hard to fit it all in. I'm up at 4:30 to have coffee and some calories before jumping into my workouts. I know I'm not alone, whether it's someone's dedication to a sport, to a career, to an art, there are sacrifices to make, but they are worth it.