Today I’ve started this post before I’ve begun the run. Dawn is still a ways to go. There is movement in the house as folks prepare themselves for the day ahead. Not a few minutes ago, it was still and quiet as I made an espresso.
Now as I write this later in the day, reflecting on the morning, the night giving way to a pink and blue washed sky, the young boy and I running with ease and a lightness of step, it was a simple, joyous morning.
Some talk, some laughter as we ran an easy half hour or so.
Towards the end, I glanced at him and in the manner that runners simply know, we started to race each other and of course he beat me by miles.
One day this wouldn’t be a metaphor for reality.
Writing about Running 