We do it together.

Saturday morning came bright and early, as our spunky 6-year-old bounced into our room in her floral nightgown around 6:30 and announced it was time to get up and get going. Through blurry eyes and sleepy yawns, we agreed that it was okay to get up early, and she immediately ran back to her room to issue marching orders to her brothers. “They said we can get up! Let’s get dressed!”

This past weekend, our family participated in the Portland Bubble Run, a three-and-a-half-mile fun run that has bubble stations located at checkpoints along the course, where runners pass through drifts of colorful cotton candy bubbles as tall as their heads. One could lose a small child in the sea of brightly colored foam, so parents are encouraged to hold onto their kids as they run through it. It sounded fun, so we signed our family up and ran it together, weaving through other participants and wiping bubbles out of each other’s hair along the way.

We receive quite a bit of questioning looks from others when we tell them we’re running a race as a family, and I get it. We aren’t the typical American family whose weekends are filled with soccer tournaments and ballet recitals and darting from here to there in the family minivan. In our particular circles, we are the exception, and most of the time we stick out like a sore thumb. And we’re okay with it.

Early on in our marriage, Kelley and I agreed that togetherness as a family was something we valued and would make a priority. We didn’t want to be like ships passing in the night, frantically running from one activity to the next while eating our meals wrapped in paper from behind a seatbelt. And when kid number three came along, we were outnumbered without extra adults around to help out, so everyone in the family pursuing separate interests became a logistical nightmare.

Sure, we may not be exposing our children to every single activity that our community has to offer, but we intentionally offer them something that we believe will serve them better in the long run—quality time with their parents. And if there is an activity that interests them, we look for ways to enjoy it together.

Even if that thing is running.

Kelley and I were both athletes growing up, and our sports involved a lot of running. (As a cross-country teamer, my sport was running.) Kelley and I ran a half marathon and multiple smaller races pre-kids, so running as a family activity is not exactly unconventional for us. Liam has always been a high-energy kid, so much so that as a toddler I would run him on the treadmill to burn through some of that energy (he loved it!). He ran his first 5K at age 6 alongside his dad in 27:00 flat. Our middle and youngest kids have run mile-long fun runs before, but this past weekend was their first 5K.

The race had staggered start times, and as my old cross country instincts kicked in, I strategized how we could start in front of the pack. I set the pace, with three sets of tiny footsteps pounding the pavement behind me, Kelley trying not to run me over with his 6-foot-frame and long stride. 

Our boys would shout, “Sneak through the window!” to each other as they wound around groups of women speed-walking in purple tutus and moms pushing double strollers. They quickened their pace when they noticed another child approaching them from behind, not to be outrun. “Watch that patch of gravel!” “Runner on your right!” “Slow your pace around this curve!” We ran as a team, instructing, strategizing, and encouraging each other along the trail. We took turns pointing out the most outlandish costumes we found (running in crazy outfits is a whole culture, apparently—we saw a couple of brides and a gang in animal pajamas). And when I had to stop at the portapotties midway through (thank you, three childbirths), my teammates waited for me without complaining.

Even when Eva tripped on the gravel path and bloodied her knees and hands, I reminded her that bandaids would only be found at the finish line; we couldn’t stop in the middle of the course. So, she stood up, brushed the dust off her floral leggings, wiped her tears, and blocked out the sting to finish the race, chanting, “I can do this. I'm strong and brave and smart,” over and over under her breath as she leaned into the hills and pushed away the fatigue. I held her hand and ran beside her, reminding her that she was strong and would finish what she started.

After she and I were greeted by our men as we crossed the finish line, we proudly accepted our participation medals and celebrated our victory with mountains of frozen yogurt spilling over with yummy toppings. (Eva’s been wearing her medal every day since the race.)

We like to purposefully tackle challenges as a family, and our kids learn from their parents how to overcome obstacles and develop grit and mental toughness. And even though they aren’t playing team sports, they still learn what it means to be a part of a team, one comprised of a varied age range, with those who love them the most. We work together, whether it’s helping each other along the running trail or packing up camp in the forest or climbing a steep natural staircase to a waterfall.

And we celebrate the wins over frozen yogurt.