Last year it was about Nyah.
It was also a way for me to process all of it… it allowed me some normalcy over a period when nothing else was normal. I mean there is nothing more normal than going for a run. Right?
… Running is about as familiar to me as breathing….
As I’ve said, I rarely run fast. But I love the rhythm of going for a run…
The rare moments when you get a flow on and the only thing that your mind is occupied with is the steady drumming of your feet as they make contact and spring you forward…
The white noise of breathing, as your lungs pull life into you…
The pulse of the terrain, as you trace the topography…
My Dad was a runner too, a moderately good one in fact..
Our family grew up with the stories of him running. First in his younger days, when running was only being done by a few crazy individuals, and it was common to have less than 10 entries in a marathon field.
And after us kids came along, he continued running. There are pictures in the family photo album of Dad, crossing the finishing lines of any number of events, holding onto at least one of us 3 kids.
But he has a different way of describing the feeling of running, in his own desert dry humorous way that he has.
“…. it’s like banging your head against a brick wall. .. it feels best when you stop..”
My Dad and I don’t always agree on everything but we do both understand running … and he taught me the value of family… it is definitely because of him I know what it means to be a good dad.
And one day I might even be be a moderately good runner.