En route to a local children’s museum yesterday, I took note of a woman running. She was running against traffic of the busy residential road - the pavement still wet from overnight snowfall. I had view of the runner for less than a minute. But, within that minute, several thoughts passed through my tired brain:
She is crazy. She needs to be careful…I hope the drivers can see her.
That used to be me.
She is a runner…she needs to run…she probably runs this road all the time…good for her.
She must be doing a long run – her stride is methodical and her facial expression is one of determination.
That used to be me.
Will I return to my previous running days – the time when I felt out of order when I didn’t run?
We continue our drive as our daughters doze into a peaceful nap….the runner fades away in my rearview mirror.
The day zooms by.
No run outside for me today. No treadmill running today.
Soon enough the snow will melt away with the winter...and I will return to running the roads.
Bring me back. Please.
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