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Felix, post-race
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As a former triple-varsity athlete and life-long sports enthusiast I've waited these past 15 years with bated breath for Felix to get into high school, where serious competition can finally begin. What trophies will he win for us, what medals? How many playoffs will I get to see my son star in? Might he go on to play intercollegiate, or even earn a full ride based on his physical prowess, just as I did? Nothing could make me more proud than to raise the next in a long line of champions.
Not a word of the previous paragraph is true, of course: I didn't play sports in high school other than the requisite time in gym class, and I gave up my single foray into college athletics shortly after discovering that sculling gives you blisters. I don't watch sports on TV and have been a reluctant spectator for the handful of live games I've seen my kids play in. Indeed, the desire to avoid long hours watching boring contests was the primary reason I've encouraged Felix to take up mountain biking: if he's in the mountains, what's there to watch?
Turns out, a lot.
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Waiting for the race to begin
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We're just back from the season's first NorCal MTB race event. Rather than driving to a field somewhere in Marin, sitting in a not uncomfortable camp chair, and then driving home, neither knowing nor caring who won, I just drove 3 hours each way to stand next to a dusty track for a glimpse of Felix...
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First lap...
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... and then, another thirty minutes later, to see him powering past his nearest competitors in a thrilling end to his first race...
You may not be surprised, but I certainly was, to find myself brimming with overwhelming pride. My boy, what a champ!
The rest of the experience was wonderful too, camping next to the beautiful (if drought-striken) Lake McClure...
Volunteering as part of the crew feeding the team and launching the racers.
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The golden child in base camp
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And did I mention the endless almond orchards in bloom on the way there and back?
If this is high school sports, I'm a fan.
