A Mile With My Son

   Being the person that I am, sometimes it's difficult to slow down to enjoy the good things that are in my life. It's been pointed out to me on several occasions. I try to stop it. But, my stupid mind always seems to be thinking one step ahead of where I am. Never  usually on the here and now.

   I haven't had the time to blog much lately due to spending extra time at work. Just not enough time in a day. Today was another long one. Signing up for overtime seemed like a great idea earlier in the week. But, as my alarm went off this morning I groaned. I'd made the mistake of staying up too darn late on what should've been my Friday night.

   Every time I passed a window at work all that I saw was brilliant sunshine. What a beautiful day. I managed to get out a little early and raced home to throw on my running shoes to get some miles in. There's been such little of this type of weather lately. I wanted to take full advantage of it. Before I left my son asked if he could go running with me. Inwardly I cringed. Running is one of the few things that I'm selfish with in my life. I like it alone. That way I don't have to slow down, speed up or talk to anybody. It's my time where I settle my mind, reflect on my life and find some of that precious inner peace that eludes me. We'd done some single mile runs together last summer. It was good running with him. But, he's only nine, slow, complains quite a bit and certainly can't go any further than a mile. Not quality training stuff. But, he's been cooped up all winter long. How could I say no? So, we made a plan that I'd run a short five miles and then swing back to pick him up for a mile run on the local trails near our home.  

   I was having a great run all by myself and wanted to continue listening to good music. No, I didn't want to swing back home to pick him up. I was already exhausted. The last thing that I wanted to do was stop. I didn't want to take the time. I was barely standing up after such a long day. But, I of course did.

   It started out like every one of our runs does. He leapt off like a jack rabbit. "Slow down and stay with me! Remember pacing!" I yell. It's about a quarter mile to the trail head from my home and the road doesn't have a shoulder. You even have to pass underneath an extremely narrow bridge that can barely fit two cars side by side. We've affectionately nick-named it the "death bridge". To make things worse, motorists seem to treat me as a moving target when I'm out there. All of these great things nervously rolling around in my mind as we raced to the trail head. I don't care if I got smushed. But, my son's another story.  

   Once we got on the trail we both felt safer. By this time he was panting heavily. His cheeks brightly flushed. Apparently playing video games all winter didn't do too much for his cardio system. The complaining starts like it always does. "Dad, I'm too hot!" We stop, the jacket comes off and I tie it around his waist. We push on for a bit. "Dad, I've gotta cramp!" We slow down to get it to settle down. "Ouch!" he yells as he stumbles through some pricker bush. "Keep your eyes open son." I chide. I try my old tactic of talking about our day to keep his mind off the discomfort. It works like magic and before you know it we're at the turn-around point. "Dad, I want to walk a little! I'm tired!" But, we need to get home to dinner. So, we only briefly stop for a selfie and then continue on.    

   He doesn't know it; but, I watch him as he runs. Where have the past nine years gone? My little boy has grown into himself. He's tall for his age and those long legs smoothly propel him forward on the trail. His brow is knitted. His face set in determination. Those arms pumping away for all they're worth. I look down at my Garmin watch; we're barely moving compared to my normal easy pace. But, I don't care. He's my son and he's nothing but magnificent. We run on in silence for a while.

   We make it off the trail and through the dangers of the open road. One more big hill before our street. He's barely able to stand now. "Dad, I can't do it!" he yells. "One step at a time son. Don't stop. Don't let this hill stop you. You can do this." I say. With gritted teeth we make it to the top and the mile mark beeps. We stop, smile and do our fist bump thing. "Good job son!" I say. He grins and takes off sprinting to our door like he always does. Someone was sandbagging their old man. Apparently someone still had gas in the tank. I race to catch up and we spill laughing through the front door.

   Yes, running can be a selfish thing. Yes, it helps me reflect, settle and find peace while I'm alone. I've gotten so much out of it through the years. I need it and welcome it when it comes. How could I not show him that gift. Yes, today's run with him was slow, full of complaints, cramps, pricker bushes and sweat. But, the whole time I wasn't thinking about the next thing that I had to do.

   I was thinking how wonderful it was to be a father, running with his son on a clear sunny day on a deserted trail. Someday, he won't want to run with me. Someday I'll be the one he has to slow down for. Someday I'll be the one complaining. Until then, I will relish many, many more slow miles.

   Ride that lightning my friends...