My brother is running the Boston Marathon for the 6th or 7th time on Monday.
I only know this because my parents are flying to Boston to watch it. Again. They haven’t missed one (except my dad the year he had to stay home for treatment for cancer).
I have run 16 half marathons, 2 marathons, and one Dopey Challenge (5k, 10k, 13.1 and 26.2 all in consecutive days). My parents showed up for my first half marathon. I told my children where to be to cheer me on after the start, and my mom convinced my kids not to go to the corner to watch me, so they missed me running by when I expected them there. My mom came to that one half because my dad’s sister was in town and was going to watch, and she didn’t want to be shown up. My brother also ran that same race.
My dad showed up for one additional half marathon because my younger brother was in town and wanted to watch; again, my older brother was running the same race.
In the end, it wasn’t about the fact I was running the race, it was because my brother was. They haven’t attended any other race I have run. My only cheerleaders are four of my children and husband, and occasional friends we run with.
My daughters have run a couple half marathons, and they haven’t shown up for those either. They are simply not interested at all.
I shouldn’t be surprised, my dad never made my gymnastics meets, or soccer games, or tennis matches his priority. I always thought I just wasn’t “good enough” at each sport to warrant his support. My brother proves my point.
My mom did attend when she could, but work was far more important most of the time (she would say she just couldn’t because there was no other option at work). This was all true for my brothers as well, so it wasn’t a situation where favorites were chosen.
I’ve noticed, though, that the dynamics are still the same. When I could offer my parents some self-esteem by bragging on my accomplishments in high school and beyond, I was the “favorite” to show up for (though that was still infrequent). Now I’m just a mom, who educates her children at home. There’s nothing for them to brag on to family and friends, so I’m the invisible one now.
My youngest brother is a private pilot with N€tJ€ts. He flies rich people and celebrities in snazzy small jets, to exotic locations, and that gives my parents clout.
My oldest brother is a good runner. He’s a 7:20 min/mile marathoner, and qualifies for Boston every year. My dad’s family all live New England, and they love watching the marathon and bragging on him. They always throw him a party (combined with my brother’s and my deceased grandfather’s birthday, and I think my uncle’s as well). It’s a big ego boost for my parents to have the fast runner child (he’s now age 58) in the marathon, and then they hang out with my dad’s family (which, ironically for years, my mom hated going to spend time with them, especially one aunt she has never liked, and would find excuses not to go).
I am a slow runner. I started at age 40 and I just don’t have the lung capacity of fast runners. I can’t imagine that my parents chain smoking in the house, in the car, and everywhere my entire childhood was helpful. Ironically, though, my brother also smoked, and he still has better lungs than I do, so it’s definitely not the only reason I suck at it.
You would hope that, at some point, we would stop wanting our parents’ approval. But that’s not reality. Relationships are complicated, and family relationships are so messy, especially when….I won’t elaborate, it’s just complicated.
It’s impossible to really separate myself from my parents right now, so it’s my burden to carry because I have no choice but to know the events that bother me. I just have to react properly, to not be rude or jealous. I’m working on the latter part.