This is Me. This is Mine.

In the last few months before my daughter left for college, I said yes to everything she asked me to do. Sugary-sweet ten-descriptor drinks at the Starbucks drive-through? YES! Shop at Ross Dress for Less for workout clothes? YES! Go to Orange Theory at 6am on a Tuesday? YES!

Orange Theory is a workout gym that combines cardio and strength. Each workout is guided by a “coach” and you wear a heart rate monitor that posts your stats on big screens around the room. The vibe is kind of Euro-Club-y — the whole place is mirrored and everything is dark grey. Loud thumping music plays in the background of the coach’s microphoned instructions. 

Orange Theory is something I never had any interest in doing. But because my daughter asked me to go, I did. And then I did it again. And again. Every time she asked me, I said yes. I just wanted to be around her, to soak up her energy, to squeeze out the last moments before she moved away.

Each time we went to Orange Theory, my daughter was gracious and let me sign up for the station next to her. On the tread (for any older generations, this is what we used to call treadmill), I ran next to her, carefully following her actions. Because the music was so loud I often struggled to hear the coach, but even when I could hear her, I didn’t understand the lingo — “base pace”, “all out”, “take it down”.

I watched my daughter manipulate the speed and incline levels on her tread and followed. When she went up, I went up (though not as high), and when she went down, I went down (often lower). Running on the tread next to my daughter, I could see her face in the mirror. I could watch her working hard, giving it her all. 

For years, I watched my daughter play soccer from a distance. It seemed like she was working hard, but I don’t know if that was because that was what was expected of her as a team player or because we signed her up for soccer when she was five and she just did what she thought we wanted her to do. I don’t know if she would have chosen that sport for herself.

A few months before college, my daughter told us, “I want to develop good eating and exercise habits before I go to college.” She started going to the gym regularly. Then, craving some variety, she started Orange Theory. 

She signed up and then got me to sign up. I liked the workout, but I mostly liked working out with my daughter. It was so fun to see her in that element. Watching her face in the mirror as we ran on the tread side by side, I could see the glimmer in her eye, the determination in her focus, the energy behind her exertion. It was all hers. Unlike her efforts on the soccer field, here she was performing for herself. 

Seeing her run hard on the tread, I had an image of myself slowing down, my speed lowering until I was completely stopped. I would fade into the background and my daughter would continue running onward, towards herself in the mirror, towards the woman she was becoming. 

Every time we ran on the tread, I trudged along next to my daughter, more focused on her image in the mirror than on my own. Seeing her dedication was mesmerizing. It was as if, with every solid set of strides, her body was chanting, “This is me. This is mine.” Her choice, her idea, her passion. 

This is what I want for her. I want her to capture that feeling that comes from finding something she loves and doing it! I wish I could harness the energy that flowed from my daughter as she ran her heart out on that tread. I wish I could bottle it up and tuck it into the front pocket of her jeans where she always keeps a tube of Aquaphor. I wish that every time she put the moisturizer on her lips, she could put a little dab of ‘Eau de This is me. This is mine’ on her wrists.

I cherish those sessions at Orange Theory with my daughter. The image of her on the tread running towards her future self—her strength, delight and passion — nourishes me in these early days as I miss her from afar. I feel grateful to have been invited into that space to witness my daughter in her “This is me. This is mine” zone. 

I hope, as she navigates her life in college and beyond, that my daughter keeps looking for and finding experiences that connect her to herself and make her feel as alive and connected as she seemed to feel on that tread. One thing I know for sure — if she asks me to join her, even if it’s something I never wanted to do, I’ll definitely say yes.