Today, August and I had our “family board meeting”. Each quarter we give each child an opportunity to plan something special one on one with Nelle or myself. We take turns, they choose an adventure, and a restaurant that speaks to their soul.
Today’s adventure?
Go Kart racing… Again.
I’m not disappointed. I love to race. It is so deeply meditative. When you strap into a cart, car, plane, or cycle, and commit to running faster, passing others, and bettering yourself, there is nothing else you can allow your brain to do. You are truly, and deeply present.
This is our third carting board meeting. Just the two of us, no technology (aside from my phone in airplane mode acting as a camera), deep conversations, and engagement. We’ve been holding family board meetings for a few years now. Each time, they open a deeper window into our children’s souls (and ours, for them).
Our drive to the track started with my own admission; “last night I had a dream about how I was showing up for you”, I started. “In my own childhood, my parents seemed to be always busy, in my dream last night, I felt like I was acting the same way to you all week” I admitted.
Nelle spent the last two weeks out of town and I’d pushed nearly all my meetings to this week when she could be present with our kids and animals. It resulted in me catching up with so many epic humans I’ve felt not nearly as connected at home as I want to… Enough so, it’s apparently even entering my dreams.
“I’ve felt like you have been as present, at least as present as you could be, I don’t remember what I dreamed about last night though”.
Appeased by his response; and especially his humor, I allowed my former racing coach self to come to the surface. “August, this is our third trip with you as a cart driver. Would you like my feedback on your racing line and such?”
“Nope, I think I’ve got it”.
Boom. My input was not welcome. I was not about to break that boundary… And I knew it might change later.
Two trips ago, I lapped him twice in one seven lap race. Today, he kept me behind him with incredible skill until lap four. On cold tires, I threw every trick I knew at him. Late breaking, pulling in tight on apexes, pushing him to the inside (and the outside), for the first time he reacted with surgical precision to each challenge.
It was only when my heavier body was able to warm the tires enough to gain purchase on a double apex corner, I made it past.
We finished the race, high-fived, and laughed wholeheartedly, while sweating from our brows and rubbing our aching shoulders. Soon, he asked me where he could go faster.
Permission given, I didn’t even consider attacking his racing line, his braking choices, or where he got trepidatious on the throttle. First I celebrated his development. He had me beat for over half the race! Then, instead of coaching him with advice, I shared how my experience shaped how I look at tracks differently. How I work to maximize the energy of every turn. Where braking helps, and where it hinders. Where I can step outside my fears to go flat out through sweeping turns, and where briefly front loading the suspension gave me an edge on turn entries.
Our next race brought an incredible level of confidence to his soul. Up against a full paddock, neither of us performed as admirably as we had in the first race, but now we raced ourselves, our own lap times, more than any other individual.
We finished our time on the racetrack and had conversations about things I’d never learned to meet head on from my own upbringing. Relationships, sex, drugs, friendships, college, dreams. We had incredible Veracruz tacos with cold brew coffee and worked to calculate how many hours a week he’d have to work as an employee to meet his goals, vs. how many if he were a business owner with a solid offering.
I’m ready to go back to the race track.
But most of all, I am grateful to honor my children’s boundaries and pour into them when invited.
Whatever the journey, there are always opportunities for deeper vulnerability, more honored boundaries, and more curiosity.
My life has had a lot of chapters. Many, I’ve never written about.
I am so grateful to share this one with you today.
What edge of discomfort are you pushing in your own growth?