The Judgment I Made Before I Knew Anything

I got to my local parkrun on Saturday morning later than I wanted — late enough that the early finishers were already coming through. I stood there deciding whether to even bother, then decided to skip the event and just run my own 6km through the same park instead. That's when I noticed a junior race wrapping up nearby — properly organised, ages called out group by group: this one was ten to twelve year olds.

A boy walked in from my left, breathing hard, somewhere in the top ten finishers. Something in the tone caught my attention before I placed the words — sharper than the noise around a finish line usually is. Then, in a language I understood, I heard a parent say to him: You did better than last time. But don't talk to me. Go cool down, then come talk to me.

They handed him his hoodie. He walked off alone.

I looked at the two of them a second too long, and that's when I noticed the parent had a second kid standing right there the whole time — younger, maybe five or six, waiting for the next race. I heard the pep talk start. Last time you didn't start well. This time you have to. As soon as it begins, push. Can you beat that one? Can you beat that one?

My first reaction was fast and it wasn't kind. That's harsh. That's not okay. I stood there replaying it, already writing the version where I'm the better parent.

Then I made myself stop.

I don't know anything about that relationship. I don't know if the older boy genuinely needs the space before he talks, or if the parent is repeating something that was done to them and never questioned. I don't know if the younger one hears "beat that kid" as pressure, or as someone believing he can. I watched four minutes of two people's whole relationship and built a verdict out of it. That's not observation. That's a story I told myself so I could feel like the good one in it.

I'm not walking away from this thinking pushing kids is wrong. I ran competitively. I know what it does for you, at the right dose, from the right person. What I'm walking away with is smaller and less comfortable: I don't actually know where my own line is yet. I don't know if I'd meet a bad result from my own kid with warmth first, or with the "better than last time, don't talk to me yet" version. I'd like to think I know. But wanting to think so isn't the same as having been tested.

So here's the honest question, and it's for me as much as anyone reading this with kids of their own: when you push a kid to be competitive, is warmth the thing you owe them before the pushing, or after it — and have you actually had to find out, or are you just assuming you'd get it right?