Friday, October 28, 2005

Happy Birthday son.

Not that my son ever reads this blog, since, well... I'm a dork... but today is his 13th birthday.

My son is now 13. 13. 13! He's currently addicted to basketball, so bicycles are not his gig right now- although he does of course have a Haro freestyle bike. D'uh...

Andrew, my son, did take to track racing like a fish to water. A couple of years ago he asked if he could ride the track with me after he had come to some of my races. I got him into the track classes and after his very first class, he begged to do that evening's race. He begged the instructor and race promoter, but they said "no" since he had only done the one class. However, after completing the week of classes, he was racing with me the very next week. I've never seen anybody take to a fixed gear bike so quickly. Obviously his handling skills were not that full, but he had no fear of being in a paceline or riding in a group. The Junior field that first night was small, as most of them are, but he fought it out for the win every time with kids older and bigger. He won one race and was 2nd and 3rd in a couple others in the omnium. To say I was proud would be a gross understatement. I did a lot of "that's my son" stuff that night.

I'm still awfully proud of him. Now that he's 13, I'm sort of an embarrassment. He's discovered girls and friends and hanging out, so spending time riding a bike with me isn't his first choice of things to do. Maybe one day he'll be excited to get back on a bike and go to the track with me again. I'd like that a lot.

Anyway, not that he'll be reading this, but...

Happy 13th Birthday son. I love ya' and I'm very proud of the young man you are becoming.

Papa

2 comments:

Christopher Smith said...

It sounds like the 13 years have gone by too fast eh? My wife and I are expecting our first in December and I am sure that I will feel the same as you in 13 years.

Skibby said...

My son is 12 and I never thought I'd get him on the track. Since he was a baby he'd see me come home rashed up, full of splinters. He's seen separated shoulders, surgeries, broken helmets and concussions. He'd watch me race but never showed any interest in riding the track until one weekend out of nowhere he asked if he could ride the track. Although I could tell he was scared he did it, and we went more than once. I'm still not sure if he'll ever race, but he made this old man awfully proud...