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This afternoon my youngest son, Micah, said “I”m getting faster, Dad. Let’s race.”
So we get set, fingers digging into the asphalt in front of our home. I’m thinking, do I let him win. Nah. That’d be a lie. He’ll beat me soon enough.
A few second later my wife yells, “Go!” and we take off. It takes me about three seconds to realize I’m going full out and we’re even, stride for stride. I give it more. Unfortunately, there’s nothing available. For me. For Micah there’s a slightly higher gear.
He beats me by a couple of yards but it might as well have been a couple of miles. My days are over.
But I can still water-ski better than he can.
At least till this summer.
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