No one tells you that as soon as you have kids — especially in the Park Cities — that you can kiss your Saturday mornings goodbye. As a younger man, I would literally dream not about Friday night’s dance-fueled pandemonium, but about Saturday morning’s rapturous bonus hours of demi-sleep. No worries, no duties, no far-flung appointments. Ah, youth.
Flash forward to reality, current day. Like 130+ other fathers, I have sold my soul to HP Cross Country. That means that around 4:45 am each Saturday an alarm goes off in our house, and my daughter starts a groggy stumbling toward The Bus, which Cannot Be Missed, that ferries her and the other little rabbits off to some farm or field or forest where the latest meet is being held. An hour or so passes, and I am up and headed off to Denton or Round Rock or Wylie to watch. And by “watch” I mean cleverly position myself so I can see her and scream her name for a full four seconds before she races past. It’s crazy on every level, and yet the program, so brilliantly orchestrated by the inimitable Coach Jerry Sutterfield, works. Girls run and bond and drink in the culture that Coach Sutterfield and his four crack assistant coaches have perfectly brewed. Here is just a glimpse:
Thanks to videographer Jack Pyland for his deft touch.