Beach Music

Just past 5 p.m., Jude, J.P and I arrived at "Beach Music," the house in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida, where we'll be staying for next week.  When she left Renewal House a few months ago, the board members were generous enough to purchase a week's stay here and give it to us.  Blessed, we are.

It's approaching midnight and I'm sitting on the porch downstairs, in the dark, listening to Bob Dylan's "Blonde on Blonde" on my iPod.  "Visions of Johanna," to be precise (just an amazing song).  I'm entering a Dylan phase, but that's another story.  Corona on the table beside me, I can smell the ocean from where I'm sitting. 

The trip down was, shall I say, difficult.  That's probably fair, given that about 10 minutes down I65 South, J.P. started whining, asking "are we there yet?"  And I'm not even joking.  For the next seven hours, that's what we heard - "are we there yet?"  The only break was when we stopped at McDonald's (or "Donald's," according to J.P.) for J.P. to play in the play area or, later, when he napped for 45 minutes or so.

The upside, though, was that for the first time in history, J.P. didn't vomit in the car.  That's something, right?  Sure it is.  Really, though, he was too busy asking "are we there yet?" to throw up. 

The real upside and what made the entire traveling ordeal worthwhile is how excited he was once we arrived.  He ran up the stairs and into the beach house, so excited he could hardly contain himself.  Better yet, we walked to beach with him after dinner, just as the sun was setting.  This time, unlike the last couple of years when we've come to Santa Rosa Beach, he couldn't wait to get to the ocean.  Jude and I laughed as he grabbed handfuls of sand and ran to the edge of the ocean, laughing and squealing with delight, as he threw the sand in the water.  It was something to see.

It's going to be a good week.

Running Scared

Every couple of years, it seems, I get an injury of some sort that keeps me from running for a while.  Five or six years ago, I tore my iliopsoas muscle and, as a result, had to shut it down for two or three months, during which time I went to physical therapy and became close friends the elliptical trainers at the Green Hills YMCA.  A couple of years ago, I ended up with plantar fascitis, which put me out of commission for six weeks or so.  Mostly, I rested and did exercises on my own.

The Wednesday after I ran in the Country Music Half Marathon, my right quadriceps muscle locked up during a routine three mile run in the neighborhood.  I limped into Bongo Java, got a cup of coffee, then limped home.  It was weird, because I felt fine after the half marathon, not even a hint of a problem.  It didn't hurt, exactly, but it just locked up, like I was walking on someone else's leg.  Strange.

I took a couple of days off, then tried to run the following Saturday afternoon.  A mile into my run, my right quadriceps muscle locked up again.  I limped into Mafioza's, had a couple of beers, then limped home, discouraged.  I realized then I had no choice but to shut it down and rest for a couple of weeks.

When I can't or don't run for several days, for whatever reason, I completly lose my equilibrium.  I'm no fun to be around.  This time was no different.  I felt lost.  After a week off, I got in the gym and lifted weights, so I could at least feel like I was doing something good for my body.  Still, not being able to run completely depressed me. 

Last Saturday, after a full two weeks off, I went to Shelby Bottoms and ran four miles on the trails.  Fortunately, I felt good for the most part, although the last mile I felt a twinge in my right quad.  No pain, though, and I finished the run without too much difficulty.  My mood immediately improved.  Tonight, I ran four miles in the neighborhood after we put J.P. to bed.  I felt much better, although I tried not to push myself too hard. 

Here's the thing, though - not being able to run, even for a relatively limited period of time, makes me appreciate so much more actually being able to run.  I can't imagine living my life without being a runner.  It's such an important part of who I am, of how I see myself and of what I do.  It's hard to explain, especially to non-runners.  I have to run and I love to run.  Period. 

Anyway, I'm on the road again, stacking up miles.  Just the way I like it. 

   

Graduation Day

This afternoon, when J.P. woke up from his nap, he and I went over to Belmont University's campus, or "Belmont School," as he calls it. 

We walked into the Curb Center (Belmont's gymnasium), where Father Ryan High School was holding graduation ceremonies for the 2011 class.  The gym was packed with spectators, but J.P. was especially interested in the graduates sitting in folding chairs on the floor.  He liked their purple graduation gowns and hats.  Once the kids started walking across the stage to get their diplomas, J.P. couldn't take their eyes off them.  I was surprised he didn't get impatient or want to leavel, but we stood and watched almost the entire ceremony.

The really cool thing about being there, though, is that J.P. and I got see Molly Spining graduate.  When I was a second year law student at UT in Knoxville, I drove my close friend, Carl Spining, to the hospital for the birth of his first child after his wife, Erin, went into labor.  His first child, of course, was Molly.  Erin was my first friend to have a child.  Today, I got to see Molly graduate, roughly 18 years later.  And my son, my firstborn, was there with me to see it.

It was pretty special and I was blessed to be there for both events.  Sort of like bookends, really.

Happy graduation, Molly.   

Love

Swingin'

Bagpipes

Jude's cousin, Colleen Blanchard, and her son, Thomas.  You can't tell from this photo, but Thomas is one big kid.  I'm predicting basketball stardom or, quite possibly, a career in the NFL as a tight end.

The Elders

The Cousins

Uncle Tom's Farm

Jude's uncle, Tom White, owns a farm in Dickson, Tennessee, about 30 minutes outside of Nashville.  It's a great place for family gatherings.  Recently, he and his wife, Sandy, hosted Jude's entire family on a Saturday afternoon to celebrate David Walker's (Jude's cousin) engagement to his fiance, Renee.  It was a fabulous event, as nine of her ten cousins were present (the only absentee was Laura McCutcheon, who is working in Spain).  Jude's brother, James, and his wife, Megan, were in town from New York City, too.

It was especially funny to watch "the cousins' kids," as they crawled, walked and ran around the barn.  It's strange to see that J.P. isn't the youngest anymore - two of Jude's cousins' boys are younger than him.  I think it's going to be a real treat to watch all of the kids grow up together, in he coming years.