Sometimes you just have one of those afternoons where
everything is absolutely perfect.
Finally after days of heat and humidity, then humidity and
rain, then just plain humidity, the weather breaks. Today is sunny, in the low seventies, and
picture perfect. After work, my daughter
and I both decide we're going to continue training to run 5k. We don't know if we will ever actually run 5k, but the object is to know that
we can run 5k at some point.
Admittedly, we are both out of our fittest forms. She had been a gymnast most of her life until
about seven years ago. I went from
playing soccer and basketball to developing some very sloppy, unhealthy habits
in my teens. I wised up and realized
life is damn short, so I jumped first on the cardio-kickboxing fad then
graduated to judo for about six years. I
was in pretty good shape until I had to have my right foot rebuilt from a very
old soccer injury (and probably from years of playing marbles the old-school
way of smacking one foot into the other).
About a year ago, I decided to start putting my new foot
back into training. It's almost ironic
that after finally being able to wear normal shoes again (heels and sandals and
boots, oh my!), that I opt to lace up the sneakers for fun instead of
necessity. With a little ingenuity, some
awkward attempts, and advice from pals, I finally make it up to consistently
running a mile on the treadmill. I am
content, until…
…Until my daughter suggest we train to run, possibly a 5k
course, but just run. Not being chased
by bad guys, cops, or lunatics, mind you.
Run for fun. (I cringe just typing that.) We started about two weeks ago, the running
part, anyway; we have been walking three-plus miles at a clip, so we're not
complete slouches.
Today, though, on this flawless spring afternoon, we lace up
our running sneakers, bring along some water, set the course, get the phone app
going (because someone has to keep us in line), and head out. We're upping the ante today, moving on to
equal running and walking, and I have to admit that running out on the street
is nothing, nothing, like running on
a treadmill. First of all, it's harder
to pace myself (I'm a sprinter, not a miler), second I don't know when the
run-time will end, and, lastly, it's not a temperature-controlled
environment. But, running outside is
infinitely more interesting. I'm
actually going somewhere, getting fresh air, and enjoying the scenery.
After we finish our run, successful and jubilant, we decide
we're starving. We head to the store and
buy every kind of fruit and vegetable we can fit into the cart, then we pick
out a couple of haddock filets. I am not
ashamed to admit that my daughter cooks the best baked haddock I have ever
eaten, hands down, bar none. I am also
not ashamed to admit that we are sweaty and disgusting and still in our running
clothes when we go shopping; it's okay because there's a new fitness center
attached to the store in the strip mall, so lots of people look as bad and even
worse than we do.
I live through the training, I am outside on a beautiful
day, and I get to eat a fantastic dinner with my daughter (plus son #2). I didn't get my school work done, and I still
have tons of things to do around the house, but that can wait. Taking the time to live this afternoon to its
fullest, though -- there will be no chance for a re-do a moment exactly like
this. Will there be more? As long as the creek don't rise and there
ain't no meltdown. But for now, giving
up hours of busy work for hours of family time (and "me" time, to be
truthful) makes every second of it worthwhile.
Sometimes you have one of those afternoons. If you don't take it and run with it, you're
missing a golden moment.
