Copy link Copied Copy link Copied Subscribe to gift this article Gift 5 articles to anyone you choose each month when you subscribe. Already a subscriber? Login Perhaps the only thing less dignified than running in a school parents’ race is actually caring about the result. And yet somehow here I am, hastily removing my cardigan to stand in a weird half-crouch on the starting line of a windy oval track.
Obviously, none of this was planned. Originally, my wife was supposed to attend our sons’ cross-country day, rather than me, and also I was unaware that there would be a parents’ race. When the event transpired, as a 48-year-old long past my prime, I had zero intention of taking part.
But then my boys, aged six and seven, started pleading loudly with me to run. Their teacher was standing next to me, and it just didn’t feel acceptable to say no. Copy link Copied Copy link Copied Subscribe to gift this article Gift 5 articles to anyone you choose each month when you subscribe.
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