At home, I mostly see the same people when I run - the die hard runners who forgo sleep in the early mornings to do what we love to do.
But one of the many incredible benefits of living by the beach in the summertime for me is that I can run at any time of day. I can run at six am if I like. Or noon. Or six pm. I'm not limited to the pre-dawn hours, racing to get out and get the miles done before the heat of the day sets in.
This lets me see so many new and different people as I run, from the Navy boys without their shirts, to the triathletes with their tri-kits and fuel belts, to the weekend warriors and the mommas like myself.
But every year, there has been one staple. One little tanned raisin of a runner that I have always been able to set my watch by. A man I have christened the running man, and every year for ten years or more, I look for him.
There he is! The running man!
A few years back, the littles began looking for him, too.
momo, he lives our block! There he goes - the running man!
This year, however, no matter how much we have looked, we have yet to see him. Did he move? Is he injured in some way? Did he stop running? And although I don't want to go there, could he be... sick?
After so many years, he is like an old friend and I cannot help but wonder about him, worry about him. My eyes scan the runners, hoping for a glimpse, hoping he is safe, sending prayers to man I have never met but whose impact on me will last my lifetime.
Showing posts with label july. Show all posts
Showing posts with label july. Show all posts
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
three hundred words a day. july 14.
Every morning in July, I wake, head downstairs, turn on the coffee and tv and settle in to watch the Tour de France. Over the past years, anyone who visits that rises as early as I do, is subjected to watching with me. Many are friends who aren't familiar at all with cycling, and I get the chance to teach them about something I love.
Little J knows much about cycling, but generally, he is not one of the people spending time with me at six am. Like most teenage boys, Little J loves to sleep and there is something about the beach and the cool air and the dark of his bedroom here that has him sleeping like there is no tomorrow.
Until this morning. No, this morning, as I headed downstairs, Little J was right beside me.
Aren't you still tired?
No, I'm all good.
So, we turned on the Tour. We talked cycling a bit. He lit the fire for me and got me a throw. He explained to me how the retina in your eye works and had me laughing about some one thing or another.
Oh, how I love this child.
The time I have with him is short now. I've said it for awhile, but suddenly, it is here. He's a senior and with all the preparations, the school year will fly in a haze of busyness. Before I am ready, graduation will be upon us and he will take his first steps into adulthood. As it is, he has become so independent already, it is almost scary.
I need to be still in these moments, with him. To listen. To watch. To appreciate them to their fullest, so that I can recall them at times when I am missing him the very most.
Little J knows much about cycling, but generally, he is not one of the people spending time with me at six am. Like most teenage boys, Little J loves to sleep and there is something about the beach and the cool air and the dark of his bedroom here that has him sleeping like there is no tomorrow.
Until this morning. No, this morning, as I headed downstairs, Little J was right beside me.
Aren't you still tired?
No, I'm all good.
So, we turned on the Tour. We talked cycling a bit. He lit the fire for me and got me a throw. He explained to me how the retina in your eye works and had me laughing about some one thing or another.
Oh, how I love this child.
The time I have with him is short now. I've said it for awhile, but suddenly, it is here. He's a senior and with all the preparations, the school year will fly in a haze of busyness. Before I am ready, graduation will be upon us and he will take his first steps into adulthood. As it is, he has become so independent already, it is almost scary.
I need to be still in these moments, with him. To listen. To watch. To appreciate them to their fullest, so that I can recall them at times when I am missing him the very most.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
three hundred words a day. july 11.
In a strange and unexpected fashion, two of my worlds collided today.
Let me explain.
Seven years ago to the day, I raced in my first triathlon at Camp Pendleton in California. It was Olympic distance and I was scared out of my wits as I got ready to start. Looking back, I find the whole experience to be somewhat surreal. The weather was overcast, I'd never before done an ocean open water swim and I simply had no idea what to expect.
But I survived and the experience catapulted me headfirst into Ironman and blogging and brought me friendships that I will forever cherish.
The CrossFit Games, which are being held this weekend in Carson, are touted as the world’s premier test to find the Fittest on Earth. Previous years' events have included tests of fitness and strength that, let's be honest, would annihilate the average athlete.
These competitors are strong. They are beyond fit. They run and row and lift circles around you and me each and every day.
But this year? This year, in a surprise announcement, after requiring that each competitor provide video proof of their ability to swim 25 meters, The CrossFit Games introduced a new first day of competition.
A triathlon - 700m ocean swim, 8k mountain bike on sand, and an 11.3k hill run with 500 feet of elevation gain.
Where? You guessed it, Camp Pendleton.
CrossFit meet triathlon.
Be still my heart.
Let me explain.
Seven years ago to the day, I raced in my first triathlon at Camp Pendleton in California. It was Olympic distance and I was scared out of my wits as I got ready to start. Looking back, I find the whole experience to be somewhat surreal. The weather was overcast, I'd never before done an ocean open water swim and I simply had no idea what to expect.
But I survived and the experience catapulted me headfirst into Ironman and blogging and brought me friendships that I will forever cherish.
I like to say I am retired from triathlon now. I run a bit, I do crossfit. Maybe I am just taking a break as I get my littles through high school but I am learning to never say never. Regardless, triathlon showed up today in my current world in a way that was unexpected and yet so incredibly cool.
The CrossFit Games, which are being held this weekend in Carson, are touted as the world’s premier test to find the Fittest on Earth. Previous years' events have included tests of fitness and strength that, let's be honest, would annihilate the average athlete.
These competitors are strong. They are beyond fit. They run and row and lift circles around you and me each and every day.
But this year? This year, in a surprise announcement, after requiring that each competitor provide video proof of their ability to swim 25 meters, The CrossFit Games introduced a new first day of competition.
A triathlon - 700m ocean swim, 8k mountain bike on sand, and an 11.3k hill run with 500 feet of elevation gain.
Where? You guessed it, Camp Pendleton.
CrossFit meet triathlon.
Be still my heart.
(cf photos property of andria kern, reprinted w/o permission. she is busy - i will ask her after the race is over. :) )
Monday, July 02, 2012
three hundred words a day. july 2.
I frequently tell my littles that they are lucky to have me as their mother.
To be honest, the exact words are more along the lines of... with grades like yours, you are lucky you got me for a mother.
Not that I am not concerned with their grades. Not that I do not encourage them to do well. Not that I do not begin each and every day entreating them to be the best that they can be.
It just seems to me as if there is some sort of disconnect between my hopes for my littles' and their own hopes for the future.
Which is entirely normal, I am finally, humbly, learning to accept.
What we want for our children is oftentimes what they want the least and the more I push them, the harder they push back. For awhile, when they were small and I was bigger, they were mine. But time has passed and now they are big and I am the small one. Now they have voices. Now they have opinions.
And more often than not, I am finding those opinions to be profound. And grounded. Not in the expectations I have created for them, but in the freedom I have given them to make decisions on their own.
And as suddenly as that, the tables turned. Instead of them learning from me, I find myself being the one that is listening, learning from the certain wisdom that only the young possess.
I remain hopeful about their grades. I am their mother, after all. I remind them. I encourage them. I do what I know that I should. That will never change.
But somewhere, deep down, I realize I've been mistaken.
Deep down, I realize that it is actually me who is the lucky one.
To be honest, the exact words are more along the lines of... with grades like yours, you are lucky you got me for a mother.
Not that I am not concerned with their grades. Not that I do not encourage them to do well. Not that I do not begin each and every day entreating them to be the best that they can be.
It just seems to me as if there is some sort of disconnect between my hopes for my littles' and their own hopes for the future.
Which is entirely normal, I am finally, humbly, learning to accept.
What we want for our children is oftentimes what they want the least and the more I push them, the harder they push back. For awhile, when they were small and I was bigger, they were mine. But time has passed and now they are big and I am the small one. Now they have voices. Now they have opinions.
And more often than not, I am finding those opinions to be profound. And grounded. Not in the expectations I have created for them, but in the freedom I have given them to make decisions on their own.
And as suddenly as that, the tables turned. Instead of them learning from me, I find myself being the one that is listening, learning from the certain wisdom that only the young possess.
I remain hopeful about their grades. I am their mother, after all. I remind them. I encourage them. I do what I know that I should. That will never change.
But somewhere, deep down, I realize I've been mistaken.
Deep down, I realize that it is actually me who is the lucky one.
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