A Running Conversation
I usually start my day with a run/walk down a neighborhood trail. While I do it every day it would be a mistake to say that I thoroughly enjoy the routine of exercise. I know so many people that love the feel of pushing their bodies to their peak. Some even refuse to wear headphones so that they may be one with nature. That, I have to admit, is not me. I am one of those people that does this because I should. It’s a good example for my kids who need to see that their dad takes his health seriously. I needed to lose some more weight to take pressure off my back, strained from years of carrying gear as a photographer.
So every morning I put on headphones, trying to motivate my legs to go faster. The massive grades of a couple hills I won’t run because it’s harder on my back and, I have to face it, I still am not in good enough shape to do that anyway.
So imagine my surprise tonight when my son asked if we could go for a walk. Particularly since I had exercised this morning already.
“Sure,” was my reply. We asked his siblings but none of them wanted to come along. Chips off the old block, I suppose.
So my son and I headed out the door, down the trail, and it was less exercise and more conversation. I’m not certain he actually stopped talking from the beginning to the end of the walk.
That was perfectly okay with me.
On the way through the trail we talked about next year, moving to 6th grade. We talked about PE, how he doesn’t like changing clothes in front of others . . . and agreed it was better than showering in a room with a bunch of others. (Which he doesn’t have to do, by the way) We talked about his visiting his grandparents this year and how I want to come out as well, if my boss will approve the vacation time.
He asked if I ever threw parties, like his people around us have, if I’ve ever run a jam session. Yes was the answer to both of those.
I told him how his mother was the one in charge of the parties, particularly the ones we had when we lived in Texas. That she always had amazing plans and made things look both special and beautiful at the same time. It was more than we’d talked together about his mom in some time.
We finished the walk and ended up back at the house. The bottled up energy and anxiousness seemed to have melted away. We sat down on the couch, a record playing on the stereo, and he leaned over and put his head on my shoulder. He was content, something he hadn’t been in awhile.
Then I looked up and noticed his twin brother was bouncing off the walls.
Maybe tomorrow . . . it will be his turn.