My First Mentor

Let me ask you a question, look back on your life. Do you remember your very first mentor?

As I began to ponder all the mentors I had in my life, I thought about my first jobs and those who took me under their wing, mainly when I worked in radio. Then I thought back a little deeper to my childhood playing and music and all the coaches and teachers I had over the years. Then I remembered the first sport I ever competed at, running. I started running competitively at age six. And my first running mentor was my mom.

My mom’s running career didn’t start with a bang. I was maybe a toddler when she ran her first road race. It was a Fourth of July run in Denton, Texas. She said the weather was sweltering as she ran in the Texas heat. And she said I am never running again.

About six months later, she ate her words, ran another race, and began to adapt to running not just as a hobby but also as a lifestyle. I heard her say once; she felt she grew an inch taller when she started running. As early as I remember, she would wake at four-thirty in the morning and run three to five miles, shower, get dressed, have my sisters and me up and dressed and fed, and all-out the door by seven.

It seemed almost every Saturday in the spring and fall, we would be up early to go to a road race. She and dad would run the 5k or 10k while my sisters and I watched. And I would beg to run the mile race, but they said no, you are not ready.

When I was six years old, I brought home a flyer from school about a fun run to support the local arts in our area. I showed it to my mom, and she said, “Do you want to run this with me?” That was our first run together. This is a picture from that day.

Over the years, we ran many races together. She showed me a better way to position my arms and how to breathe. And just by watching her stamina and determination, I became a better runner. As I got older, I even started beating her in races. But I think that is part of being a mentor and helping your protégé surpass you. I ran cross country for my high school’s team in high school, and my mom was there cheering at every race. I even ran my first year of college, but that was really hard.

In my early twenties, I continued to run road races with my mom. When I was attending Northwestern, my mom would drive up and run the Festival of Lights road race. She loved it because my apartment was only two blocks from the racecourse, and we could just walk to the start and walk back after the race.

At twenty-five, I was in a tragic accident. I tried to run and train again, but my left lung wouldn’t allow it. My mom still believes that if I just train, I can road race with her again. But my lung and body say no. And yes, my mom still runs at least five days a week. She gets up later, 5:30 or 6:00 am, instead of 4:30 now that she is retired. Although not as often, she still races and wins in her age group every time.

Because my mom mentored me and introduced me to my first love, running, I, in return, have mentored my friend’s kids in running and showed them the “tricks” my mom showed me.

I hope to be that kind of mentor to proteges in my life, how my mother mentored me in running.