A DAD'S LIFE:Why should kids' pursuits always come first, writes ADAM BROPHY
I’M HEALTHY enough. I’ll get out and exercise about four times a week, mixing it up between swimming, cycling, running and a little time in the gym. My brain can’t maintain that level of effort just for the sake of exercising, so I enter triathlons and distance running events. They give me a massive kick and widen the old circle of friends.
These races are also focus points for buddies and family to get involved. When one person sees a pal of their own vintage and ability try something that requires some level of diligence and commitment, they often believe they too can get off the couch and achieve a similar standard themselves.
That’s how I started to run. It’s how most people on the auld fella and auld one circuit got involved. And we wind up doing these things, marathons and the like, often because we feel we have to, to regain some level of fitness, but we keep doing them because we enjoy them.
A knock-on benefit is that our kids see us exercise and be reasonably conscious of the food we put into our bodies and they too become aware of taking care of themselves.
They don’t see exercise and racing as something done only by “athletes”. I’m no Eamonn Coghlan and my kids know it. They poke my soft gut, call me Mr Squelchy and challenge me to bike races around the house because they think they can beat me.
To them, parents exercising is the norm. As a result, they don’t harbour any fears about getting involved. Also, because I’m out there training and coming home delighted having just finished a race, they don’t see winning as the only reason for taking part. If they did, I’d be a sorry disappointment.
For them, going for a sea swim race or taking part in a bike time trial is just something we do. They trudge along to watch occasionally, hang out afterwards with the other kids and listen to us mutter about how we could have done better.
This is important. I hear parents crib constantly that their weekends are devoted to driving their kids from pillar to post, from soccer to camogie to Irish dancing topped off with a rugby match or a music lesson.
These are all worthy pursuits. But often the same parents lament that they can’t then spend time on themselves. More than once, a friend has committed to entering a race with me, and later pulled out citing a lack of time to prepare. The kids’ pursuits come first.
What’s the point? When did we come to the conclusion that the development of our children’s skillset was the be-all of our existence? What message does it send to drive them from one class or training session to another when all we can manage is to spark the car’s ignition?
The results are obvious. They see themselves as somehow more valuable, and we, their parents, gripe in response at our offspring’s sense of entitlement. We bite our lips when they shout at us to hurry up and get them to riding lessons. We apologise that their kit may be a little damp because we forgot to pull it in time from the bottom of the sportsbag where they left it.
They also learn that whatever they do has a finite course. At some point they will become parents, give up their hobbies/obsessions and prepare for the chauffeur’s cap to be handed to them.
My first triathlon of the season took place in Waterville a week ago. A 16-year-old boy romped it, coming home five minutes ahead of his nearest competitor. Out on the cycle route, I passed a boy so young and bony, chicken knees flapping in the wind, I presumed he had jumped on his bike as a skit to hang out with racers for a few minutes. He crossed the finishing line a few minutes after me (thankfully) as the announcer roared: “Our youngest entrant, just 13!”
My information about these kids is limited but I’d hazard a guess that their parents weren’t preening and prepping them in advance. If anything, they were probably involved in some way themselves. Because taking part is what counts, not pushing them to do things we used to do.
It seems more important, to me anyway, to encourage them to do the things we still love. Letting them know it’s us and them, not just them.