"No Robert, I am not going to force you to run in the race. But, you have to put on your running shoes and go with me. Look, here are your brand new running shoes. I am not going to make you run, but I am going to make you put on your new shoes just in case you decide to participate."

We met dad and mom in Carthage for the race. My dad visited with Robert while mom and I ran the 5K. Upon finishing, I found Robert. "Robert, do you want to run today? I will go sign you up." Robert replied "Yes, I am going to run". I signed him up and picked up a number and T-shirt. I pined on his number. "Dad" Robert said, "I don't think I want to run". "Well, Robert" I replied "I am not going to make you run, but you do have to go over here to the starting line and line up. If you decide not to run when the gun is fired, fine."

Jack fired the gun and Robert takes off. I follow close behind. Just before the turn around point, Robert asks me to carry him. "That would not be fair" I tell him." Robert runs on. We make the turn and start back. "Dad, I don't want to run any more where there are bumps." Robert states without emotion. I later find that he is speaking of the hills on the course. Ok, Robert doesn't like hills just like the rest of us.

As we top the last hill and can see the finish line in the distance I hear Robert again. "Dad." "Yes Son" I reply. Robert continues "I want to save these new shoes. When I am old, I want to take them out and look at them."

Wow! I think to myself. My five year old son grasps the concept of having that pair of shoes until he is older and taking them out, looking at them, and remembering this day. What will he remember when he is older? Will he remember that time I told him I would do something and then the circumstances would just not allow me to follow through? Will he remember running this one mile race with his dad? What kind of memories am I helping to develop for him?

Tucked in the back of my closet, on the top shelf, you will find a small pair of running shoes. The shoes have already begun to collect a little dust. Some day, just a little over two decades from now, a young man will be celebrating his thirtieth birthday. He will pick up a small box, carefully wrapped. Within it he will find an old, faded pair of running shoes and a copy of this story. And hopefully his mind will be flooded with those memories of running with his dad.