Running is a gift my dad shared with me when I was young, probably about 10 or 11. My earliest memories of running are in Pinetop, when we lived off of a long road in a meadow, so you could see for miles. My dad was a regular runner, and I asked if I could could go with him one day. My dad was cool enough to make me feel welcome running with him, even though I'm sure I slowed him down.
Our routine was we'd walk out to the road and and start running together. I learned to regulate my breathing by listening to how he timed his breaths with his steps. He slowly jogged ahead of me, occasionally glancing back to make sure I was doing okay. He stopped at the cattle guard about 1.5 miles down the road, and there he waited for me to catch up to him. I remember I would keep my eyes trained on the hairy figure in the distance (he often ran with his shirt off) and watch him as he got bigger and bigger in my view. When I finally got to him, he would ask how I was doing. Once he confirmed I was well, he started back and I followed him. He again waited at the road near our house for me to finish running, and then we'd walk back to the house together, sweaty and satisfied while catching our breath.
My dad never timed our runs, and never seemed to push himself beyond what felt good on that particular day. I learned from my dad that running can be enjoyable, even relaxing, and a great way to enjoy the outdoors while keeping my body healthy. It is a gift I value more and more, the older I get. Running keeps me fit and healthy and young, as it still does my dad.
Happy Father's Day dad! Thank you for the lifelong gift of running.
Today I went to the gym with the intent of just doing two miles on the indoor track. It's my fifth day in a row and I probably would have taken the day off but I have to go to Nashville tomorrow for a job interview, so the next two days are likely out. Anyway, I felt pretty good on the track, which is part of my strategy in doing inclines on the treadmill (so flat running hopefully feels easier, plus I have hills in my neighborhood so it keeps me prepared). I generally know in the first couple minutes of a run how it's going to go, and I felt good enough to think I'd probably do three miles. Shortly thereafter I decided I could probably do four, which would be good since I'm taking the next couple days off. And in the third mile I decided I would push past four, and make this my "long" run (assuming there is some sort of training occuring for a future half marathon). And, I ended up doing five miles on this day. Feeling pretty darn good about that.
You rock. So does Dad.
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