The Race, the Shade, and Why I Do This Work

It was a beautiful hot sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Forrest and Bob were running a fell race and invited me along. In the car on the way I realised I’d forgotten my wallet. Bob had too. We got teased about that, responsible parents that we are. Neither of us could figure out how to pay on our phones either, because that’s too technical! Orla drove and parked in the field right near the race under a tree. As our men ran up the hill she bought us falafel wraps and beer, which was perfect in the hot sun. She also brought small fold-up chairs. So civilised. I liked her even more for that.

We found a square of shade from the pub sign and set Orla up in it. I sat next to her soaking up the sun. We talked babies. She and Forrest have their idea about parenthood already forming. Different from how Roam and Shenny are doing it. Both of them right. I was happy to hear her thoughts so I know how to slot in with their way of doing things. Between both our sons, Bob and I get every single grandparent box ticked. Not planned. Just how it worked out.

What I didn’t expect was how much it would matter to be heard. The boundaries they’re setting, the life they’re already building. And my gratitude for Orla being so inclusive of me, even this early in their pregnancy.

Forrest came in third. He expected top ten. But suddenly there he was, stopping just before the finish line to kiss her. That is a man who knows what matters. A real crowd pleaser too.

Then there was Bob.

The first fell race I ever went to with him, many years ago, I found him laid out in a field like a starfish, moaning at the sky. He was in his thirties then. Monday I saw him about twenty metres from the finish, stumbling, someone helping him. Forrest and Orla ran straight to him. Forrest helped him cross the line before they soaked him with cold water.

St John’s Ambulance were on him immediately. Brilliant. He was wet through and absolutely convinced he’d missed the hose. In between the deliriousness he said he’d wanted to beat someone. I asked who. Bob said, “Well yes, he’s a little younger, just turned fifty recently.” Forrest and I looked at each other. Yeah Bob. That’s twenty whole years younger.

I watched the penny drop. Actually watched it. Later in the car he said something quiet, like he was working it out. That he hadn’t really understood what seventy meant. That even being genuinely remarkable didn’t mean the same rules applied anymore.

I’ve spent twenty-five years sitting with people in exactly that gap. Between who they believe they are and what their body is actually living. To be there for that moment with Bob, not as a healer, just as someone who loves him. That landed.

We are a very young-minded, fit family. But age catches up, even with elite athletes. And once I knew Bob was okay I just embraced the fullness of it. He was joking and back to himself soon enough, and I looked at the whole thing as part of the entertainment.

Forrest got his first fell podium medal, won thirty quid, and I got cold beer and bonding time with Orla under a perfectly blue sky. The photos of Forrest smiling with his prize next to Bob hooked up to machines were a wonderful contrast.

Being at fell races always brings back a lifetime of memories of raising kids with Bob. And here we all are, watching the next generation do it. Maybe the one after that too. I felt so blessed to be there.

This is what the work is for. Not the programmes. Not the calls. Not the ebooks. All of that exists so I can be available for a Monday afternoon on a hillside in the sun, eating a falafel wrap I didn’t pay for, watching my son kiss the woman he loves, feeling a family that actually knows how to be together.

That’s the whole point. Right there.

Are you missing the point? Life is about living and enjoying the process. If you need some blocks releasing so your energy can flow, book a call: https://bit.ly/MyTruthMap