I am not my parents, my son is not me

As I am still nursing my sore knees from this past weekends running attempt I had to stop and really think about a few things.

My son has an incredible passion for running. He is 11 years old and though he is really active he wasn’t interested in many sports. He tried baseball, but we quickly learned that his baseball career wasn’t going to advance beyond little league. When the elementary school started a running club a couple years ago, he was so excited. It is something that he loves to do and is really good at. He is 11 years old and requesting to run 5k races on a monthly basis now. I want him to excel and be excited, but I am hesitant because of my own athletic history.

From my first day of swim lessons when I was seven years old, my parents knew that I was going to be a swimmer. I excelled in my lessons and joined the year-round swim team at the YMCA when I was eight years old. By the time I was 14, I was swimming on two different teams year-round and a third in the summers. I loved swimming. I couldn’t get enough. To top it all off, I was really good. My parents couldn’t keep me from working out even on vacations. By the time I was in high school I was swimming 4-6 hours a day. It started taking a toll on my body, but I didn’t care because I had this drive to do the one thing that I was good at. One of my coaches had instilled in me the mentality of swim through the pain. By the time I was 16 I was in physical therapy for my shoulder. When I was 17 I had my first knee surgery. I had been swimming so much that I actually wore out the cartilage in my joint. I went to college swimming on the JV team, a year-round club team, and playing water polo. A year later, when I was 19, I had two more knee surgeries and a shoulder surgery. My swimming career was over. I lost who I was. I identified myself growing up as a swimmer and when I couldn’t swim anymore I didn’t know who I was or where I fit in the world. I am 33 now and my surgery total is up to 8 surgeries on one knee and 2 surgeries on one of my shoulders. I need to have a knee replacement now on my right knee and will be calling my doctor this week to take a look at my left knee.

I do not blame my parents, but I wish they had not let me do that to myself. I wish they had made me take more breaks. I wish that they ignored my pleas to keep swimming even though I was injured. I am hoping to learn from what happened to me and teach my son to enjoy running, listen to his body, and above all, learn that he is so much more than a runner. I want my son to say (in this situation at least) that he is nothing like his mom.

Wishing you love and sunshine,
Sarah