When I was in elementary and middle school, embellishing the unrealistic dream of someday becoming a professional athlete, my dad gave me basic pointers on how to play football and baseball—the two sports he excelled in as a young man.  My memories of those times exist more as cloudy, nostalgic sentiments than detailed, visual images of specific exchanges.  However, I do vividly recall his low-key approach to teaching me to play sports, both in his praise and criticism.  In fact, my only meaningful memory of his frustration was when he told me one day that I would never amount to much as a ball player if I didn’t get rid of my sulky attitude.  Even then, he didn’t raise his voice, he just shared his message in a stern, yet matter-of-fact manner. 

I took his message to heart; this I know for sure.  I am uncertain though whether part of the reason he expressed a laid back demeanor was because he believed I was eager to learn and trying my hardest.  Did my energy make it easy for him to remain calm?  I know I always wanted to please him. 

Today, after a cycling training session with Phoenix, I was filled with my enduring sentiments of Dad, who passed more than 18 months ago.  Phoenix got up on time at 6:20 a.m., but he soon started to get distracted and waste time while he ate breakfast and brushed his teeth.  I became increasingly agitated because we faced serious time constraints in doing our planned workout before I dropped him off at camp by 8:30.  

Beyond my frustration with his dawdling, I wasn’t sure what to expect from Phoenix on the bike because the night before he took part in a new triathlon training program.  He logged cycling intervals on a stationary trainer and then ran a few miles with his new friends.  That night, he seemed tired from the experience, but he often rebounds by the morning.  When the morning came, I was hoping for the best.  

But this morning, after watching how he warmed up and did a practice mount and acceleration, my optimism gave way to the realization that Phoenix wasn’t going to be committed to the session.  He soon lagged behind on the ride, despite me being on my mountain bike.  I called back to him “push yourself,”  “come on, you’re not going to get on the podium going that slow, . . .”  None of my verbal challenges dented his resistance; he was determined to go at a relatively leisurely pace. 

Unlike my experiences with Dad, I sometimes question Phoenix’s lack of effort on the bike or when he is running, swimming, or playing one of his team sports.  For the record, whatever significant experiences I had with Dad came later in my childhood because I wasn’t as deep into the athletic world when I was Phoenix’s age.  I try to keep that difference in perspective, but I struggle with that at times.  

What perplexes me is his situational willingness to sometimes exude a competitive, energetic spirit.  When cycling, I’ve seen him celebrate those times when he is moving quickly next to me.  What distinguishes those intense moments from his sluggish ones?  I’m not always sure…fatigue from other activities, mood, drifting mind, or something else.  I do know that he’s capable of meeting my expectations if he wants to because he has done so on various occasions.

How much of my observations are the result of developmental versus generational forces?  That’s another tricky question.  Those of us raised in an era and family context where kids were routinely discouraged from developing a sense of entitlement, tend to get annoyed with kids today who want the glory of an accomplishment without putting in the hard work and making sacrifices.  Each successive generation of men and fathers seem to claim that their generation of peers was more mentally tough than their predecessor.  I’m not aware of any rigorous data that either supports or refutes that claim, but anecdotally the idea resonates with me.  Does it apply to elementary school kids?  Perhaps, sometimes?  However, the sporting opportunities for youth in the current era are so different in many ways, it distorts comparisons.

So, my ongoing dilemma is how hard can, or should I physically and mentally push Phoenix to do what it takes to achieve the goals he claims he wants to achieve?  Of course, it takes little effort to express the desire “I want to be one of the best in the nation” at some athletic endeavor, but the journey to realize such a goal demands an incredible amount of focus, dedication, and hard work.  That’s hard for most kids to grasp.  Yet, some do.  I regularly share my message about the value of hard work with Phoenix and I continue to push him beyond what he perceives to be his limits, then remind him later at those times when he’s focused, that what he just achieved was more than he had imagined.  For now, my approach seems to be fostering more good than bad, so our journey continues day by day with a detailed written log to remind him just how much he has done and improved over months of training.  He loves setting new personal records.

Jeremy Rifkin, in his 1987 book, Time Wars, wrote a fascinating account of how six dimensions of time have affected the organization of societies around the world throughout history.  One key dimension of interest to me, synchronization, has implications for dads and their kids in the way they interact and experience aspects of health and fitness. 

In addition to shaping cultures, then, time matters to individuals on a personal level. It affects how they experience their families, friendships, play, and work. When things are synchronized, harmony and efficiency typically follow.  When time preferences or schedules are poorly matched, tension and conflict result. 

My parents managed time with the precision and reliability of a Swiss watch. As I recall, neither of my parents were ever late to a scheduled event.  For them, being on time was the norm; it was the polite, honorable thing to do.  They taught me to show people respect by respecting their time. They also thought ahead and planned their activities and time accordingly.  I embraced their time-oriented values long ago and I express them often with Phoenix, my nearly seven-year–old son.

How I manage time in practical terms as a dad, often depends, not just on my own basic philosophy, but on how Phoenix reacts to organized schedules and my “on-time” and “let’s not waste time” perspectives.  If I’m on my game being a nurturing dad, I consider his mood and energy level when I ask him to manage our shared time.  Unfortunately, Phoenix still regularly tests my patience with his bouts of “time insensitivity.”  I reassure myself that we’ll eventually improve our synchronicity and harmony… all in good time.  

Let me share a couple insights about how I manage my shared time with my son.  First, I learned early on that Phoenix, like many kids, thrives when kept on a fixed sleep schedule.  The circumstances must be truly special for me to deviate from his routine.  Long ago I bought into what sleep and child development experts stress—get infants accustomed to a regular, calming set of bedtime rituals.  The National Sleep Foundation also recommends that kids aged 5-12 should get 10-11 hours of sleep a day.  Early on, I introduced nap and evening sleep rituals that included writing a song “Baby Rock” that I've sung to put Phoenix to sleep on-schedule thousands of times, even to this day.  Phoenix is much more receptive to my requests to “get a move on” when he’s realized his sleep target of 10.25 hours.  His energy level is also in sync with the scheduling demands of his school, summer camps, sports, workout sessions, and other activities. 

Second, I do a lot of thinking ahead to coordinate Phoenix’s busy and time-sensitive schedule.  I’m confident that a dad’s (or mom’s) effective style of time management can make a significant difference in a child’s health, fitness, and sense of well-being.  A parent’s attentiveness to time can also enhance a child’s options to do more, and accomplish more, in life.  Being a “time-focused” dad means I make a concerted effort to anticipate his physical, travel, and event needs so that we can synchronize our time efficiently.  Of course, not everyone agrees with where to draw the line between a positive, supportive parental focus on time and what Margaret Nelson has negatively labeled “parenting out of control” in her 2010 book by the same title.”  I strive to not be neurotic about it, but I’m sure those who are careless with time would question my deliberate style.  

Third, I take full advantage of travel time by using my car as a resource.  I've established time-saving rituals for Phoenix by stocking my car with healthy snacks, water, paper, pens and pencils, books, sports gear, and sun block that allow Phoenix to do his homework, read, eat, or change his clothes and shoes on the fly.  Fortunately, he didn't inherit my penchant for getting car sick when reading.  

Fourth, I urge Phoenix to be more mindful of the transitional moments in daily life that shift his focus from one event or responsibility to another.  Many of these moments occur in my car or his bedroom.  In the car, I have a blanket on hand for the times where we’re driving at night and I want him to go to sleep on schedule.  During the day, when time between events is short and I’m shuttling him from one activity to another, especially a training session or athletic event, I have on board what he and I call “fuel-food” to energize him.  At home, on the nights when an early morning triathlon training session is planned, I have him sleep in his workout clothes to reduce the potential for us to butt heads over his distracted or sluggish efforts to get ready.  Just tonight, I wanted to get Phoenix to sleep on time after a relatively late Youth Combine triathlon training session, so I packed him a homemade dinner that he ate as we drove home.

In short, at every turn, I strive to make sure Phoenix is well-rested, outfitted with the little things he needs to be efficient, and aware of what he needs to do to move efficiently from one activity to the next.  I trust that, over time, our collective efforts to manage time wisely will lead to a form of synchronicity and harmony that will enhance our resolve for sustaining good health and fitness.