Memories of running sons

“You gotta dig deep now!”

“Go after that guy in front of you!”

“You’re looking strong! Pick up the pace!”

“Kick, kick, kick!”

Those words came to mind the moment we rounded the curve into the Sunrise Day Use Area at Farragut State Park Sunday evening.

It had been well more than a decade, probably 15 years, since we had been here. So long ago.

It was a place we knew well when our sons Nick and AJ ran cross country at Lakes Middle School, and then Lake City High School. Many meets were held here and I had not even thought of that when we decided to visit Farragut over the weekend. Then, at the end of the long road through the park, we turned into Sunrise and it all came back. Bam. I remembered. All the cheering and yelling. All the excitement. All the hopes.

I was the high school runner’s parent nightmare — a dad who loved to run and wanted his kids to love to run. I ran to points on the course, camera in hand, to take pictures and of course, scream. Faster. Stronger. Dig. Push. Go. Kick.

I was at the starting line. I was at the mile marker. I was at the top of the dreaded “Goat Hill.” I was at the finish line, cheering (though I’m not sure my sons thought it was cheering).

I loved watching Nick and AJ run cross country. They were young and fast and strong. Perhaps because one of my biggest regrets was not running cross country when I was at Blanchet High School. I ran track, the mile, for the sole reason to meet a girl. But never cross country. I thought it was a nerd sport. A buddy encouraged me to come out because I beat in him our 3-mile runs around Green Lake in Seattle for PE.

“Buley, you should be on the country-country team.”

I didn’t listen.

I wish I had.

So when my sons ran cross country, my wife and I were usually there. Not always. Sometimes, work got in the way. But almost always. God, it was fun to watch them, to root for them, to congratulate them. To talk to their coaches and the teammates.

Still, as the years passed, I forgot about how important those meets were to me. For so many years. I thought they would never end, that there would be no finish line.

There was. They graduated and the memories of cross country and Farragut drifted away. Lost in the past.

So when we pulled into the parking lot at Sunrise, those memories came racing back. It took my breath away. My God, I had forgotten. How could I have forgotten?

We walked around and I could see the different points on the course when I would yell for them. Ghosts from the past rushed past me. I watched them go and wanted to run with them.

In my mind, I could see my sons so clearly, gasping for breath, gutting out the final mile, grinding to the finish line.

As we drove away, I slowed and glanced back. I remembered. They tried so hard. They gave it everything, every timer. They made me so proud.

Run on, boys.

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Bill Buley is assistant managing editor of The Press. He can be reached at (208) 416-5110.