Grandkids, they say, will keep you young. But these days, they're making me feel awfully old.

The other day, my 5-year-old grandson, Harrison, charged away with a football, a smile and glint in his eyes, and dared me to catch him. I couldn’t. Harrison beamed with delight. His expression seemed to say, “Yeah, you're too slow, Grandpa."

He simply knew he was too fast for me. 

Then his brother, 3-year-old Beau, took off across their front yard. “Catch me,” he said. For a little guy, he’s quick. After about 20 yards, I stopped, took deep breaths, shook my head and threw my hands up. No more. I thought I might have had a heart attack. Beau ran by in the other direction and I swear he was laughing at me. I did not give chase.

Then, there is the finest young runner I know, my granddaughter, 11-year-old Hadley. She is a graceful runner. She glides along, almost above the Earth, thin legs gobbling ground with such ease it makes me wish I was young again. 

I can no longer outrun her over short distances. She proved this on our Labor Day family gathering in McCall when we lined up to race a distance of about 25 yards. Someone said, “Go,” and she was gone. I huffed and puffed well behind.

"Good try, Grandpa," Hadley said.

Still, I am proud that she recently ran a mile at her school in 6 minutes and 59 seconds, leading all the girls to the finish line, and second only to one boy. I don't know that I will ever run another sub-seven mile.

There’s a problem. 

Hadley isn’t yet sold on running. Can you believe it? My granddaughter does not love running. Where did I go wrong? She prefers soccer, at which she excels, and I consider a good base for real running. 

It’s a matter of time. I see running in her future. I will win her over to the dark side.

“You’ll dominate cross country and track in high school,” I tell her. “You could run at Notre Dame and in the Olympics and I’ll be there to cheer for you.” 

I once told Hadley, “You look like a runner,” to which her little brother, Holden, said, “What about me, Grandpa? Do I look like a runner?” 

“Oh yeah,” I said. “You’re super-fast.” 

He grinned and nodded in agreement, never one to lack confidence. 

“It’s true,” he seemed to say. 

I plan to turn all my grandchildren into runners. It's a work in progress. Harrison ran his first mile with me in 12:41, not bad for a little kid who talked about sharks and whales the entire time. 

The way I see it, Harrison and Hadley will run middle to long distances, maybe the 800 meters, the mile and the 2-mile in high school. Holden and Beau will be sprinters, competing in the 100, 200 and 400. 

Then, there is the youngest, Myles.

I don't think he can beat me just yet because he's only 1, but I won't challenge him. 

He crawls like the wind.

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Bill Buley is managing editor of The Press. He can be reached at [email protected].