He could not believe I would inflict such suffering on my own flesh and blood. He pleaded, he sulked, he moaned. I would not be moved. This morning, when I woke him at 0530, there was more of the same; this time, with feeling. Even so, and I give him credit for this, he was up and out of bed and dressed to run in no time. He let me know he wasn't happy about it, but he didn't waste time.
Before the run: Miserable.
We showed up at the dark PT field in time for the 0630 start. He was the only civilian, and the only person under twenty-something, but he fit right into the formation and did the warmup exercises just like everybody else. And when we ran, he cruised along beautifully, running his own pace, which started out slowly, but which ended up with him passing quite a few people before the run was over.
He didn't want to get up at that ridiculous hour, and he didn't want to run, but he did it anyway, and when he finished, he had a smile on his face. As did I. I'm proud of him.
After the run: Happy.