Searching for My Son: Our Unforgettable 5k Journey
A father's anxiety intensifies as he awaits his 11-year-old son at the finish line of a 5k race When his son doesn't show up, he embarks on a search that leads to a surprising discovery, ultimately teaching him a valuable lesson
Bringing a new baby home is a sudden responsibility, filled with joy but also moments of fear as each new milestone increases the fear of something going wrong. As your child starts to grow and explore the world, the worry of a lost child becomes a parent's worst fear, despite telling yourself everything will be okay.
As the year comes to an end, I recall the anxiety I experienced on a sunny Saturday morning in late September during a 5k race in Clarkston, Georgia, while waiting for my 11-year-old son at the finish line.
I was aware that he could complete a 5k in approximately 30 minutes. When he didn't show up at the 35-minute mark, I started to worry about what might have happened. As the 40-minute mark approached and he was still nowhere in sight, I went out to search for him.
Had he become lost? Had he spoken to a stranger? Had he been hit by a car? As I crossed the railroad tracks and peered down the long straightaway, I searched for his face, debating whether I should continue running until I found him.
It had already been a peculiar morning. An hour earlier, as we entered town, my son spotted a neon green insect on the hood of my car. It was no longer than a fingernail and surprisingly friendly. This little creature hopped onto my son's finger, strolled across my shirt, and then returned to my son's hand, where it lingered for quite some time. It stayed so long that we eventually named it: Little Friend.
The distance from the car to the registration table was about a quarter of a mile. My son stayed with Little Friend. After dropping off some items at the car, we returned and waited for the race to begin, with Little Friend joining us. Later, I discovered that Little Friend was actually a tree cricket, likely a species known as the snowy tree cricket, confirmed by Will Hudson, an entomology professor at the University of Georgia who identified it from a photo I sent.
"If the cricket were a little chilly, then sitting on something warm like your hand might feel pretty good," he said when I told him the story.
Thomas Lake with the tree cricket on his shirt the day he ran a 5k with his son.
Thomas Lake
Just moments before the race, Little Friend slipped from my son's hand and landed on the sidewalk. It seemed to want to be free, but it was a risky place with heavy pedestrian traffic. My son reached out his hand and Little Friend returned. As the race began, the tiny green insect was in for a wild ride. I worried about my son running fast, the long race, and how Little Friend would be bounced and jostled. I felt the need to have a talk with my son.
You will lose Little Friend, I told him.
My son nodded, treating the moment with appropriate solemnity.
Little Friend perched silently on his wrist.
The race began, and I lost sight of them.
I ran at a good pace, although not as fast as my college days, and felt invigorated as I crossed the finish line. However, that excitement turned to concern when my son was nowhere to be found. He had completed a 5k in 30:34 just a few months ago, but today he was taking much longer. As the minutes passed and he didn't appear, my anxiety only grew.
I repeatedly asked people if they had seen him, but no one had. As I looked across the tracks at the long straightaway, I searched for him in the distance, but he wasn't there. As I returned to race headquarters, I pondered how to issue an all-points bulletin for my son. In my bewildered state, I didn't even notice him crossing the finish line.
But there he was, thank God, just ahead of the 45-minute mark.
And there was Little Friend, riding on the upper crook of his right thumb like a very small captain on a very tall ship.
There was something else the entomology professor told me about these snowy tree crickets. Living in trees and shrubs as they do, they are used to feeling the wind blow.
They are good at holding on.
My previous predictions were inaccurate. My son didn't run fast, and he didn't lose Little Friend, and I couldn't help but feel that these two things were somehow connected. He attributed it to a lingering cold, but I had my doubts. However, I didn't press him for more information.
A boy has his own motivations, some of which are mysterious even to him. There are multiple ways to achieve victory in a race.
We returned to the car with smiles on our faces, then discovered some bushes in the parking lot where my son thought would be a suitable place to say goodbye to Little Friend. Their short but deep bond had come to an end.
"Go be free," my son murmured, nudging Little Friend gently. After some hesitation, Little Friend sprang from his finger and disappeared into the dense greenery below, a delicate creature vanishing from sight.
One day, my son will also venture off on his own, leaving behind the precious moments we shared. My brother recently sent me a photo of the two of us, which tugged at my heartstrings. In the picture, my 6-year-old son held my hand, gazing up at me with a look of hope and innocence that words cannot capture. It felt like he was trying to convey something to me, but my attention was elsewhere. Seeing that photo made me want to shout at myself: Look at him! Turn your head! Nothing else in the world matters more!
My son understood the simple truth. Every now and then, life bestows upon us something beautiful and delicate, a fleeting treasure that we must handle with care. There's no need to rush forward. Instead, we should savor every precious moment and hold onto it for as long as we can.
