Bookends

This morning - the Sunday before Memorial Day - J.P. and I went for a 3 miles run in the neighborhood while Jude and Joe went for a hike at Radnor Lake.

I've really been enjoying running with J.P. lately and this morning was no different.  We stretched in the living room, walked out the front door, stretched a little more, then off we went up Linden Avenue toward Belmont Boulevard.

I map out in my head what route we're going to take before we start the run.  Because Jude and I have lived in the neighborhood - in two houses - for almost 20 years - I have a million routes we can run, or so it seems.  I vary them for J.P. and since his running regularly with me is a fairly new thing, it's fun introducing him to new routes.  I think he enjoys seeing the neighborhood from a different vantage point - an new one - as we run through it.  

Today, we ran down Belmont Boulevard to Portland Avenue, then curled back around to Belmont University and ran through campus.  We followed one of my oldest and most familiar routes down Acklen Avenue and turned on to Elliott Avenue, where ran up the alley behind our old house.  We laughed together as we looked at the tiny garage with a chain link gate and the small backyard.

We ran up the hill on Douglas Avenue and turned onto Tenth Avenue, where we marveled at the vacant lot where a church sat until vary recently on the corner of Douglas and Tenth.  Apartments - and more traffic - on the way, I'm sure.  We turned onto Halcyon Street, ran by Hal and Kim's house, and stopped at Portland Brew on 12th Avenue for hot chocolate (J.P.) and coffee (me).  Afterwards, we sat on a picnic table outside Ember's Ski Lodge - the dumbest bar in 12South - and talked quietly for a few minutes.

As J.P. and I sat and talked, nodding or waving to pedestrians who walked by, some pushing strollers and others with dogs on leashes, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

Like yesterday, I recalled walking down 10th Avenue with J.P. in the City Elite stroller - more than a decade ago - and waving at Ronnie Henderson as he drove by in his old, beat up pick-up truck.  It was one of my first walks with J.P., maybe the very first one.  Later, on a different day, when I ran into Ronnie, he shook his head and laughed when he told my how proud I looked that day he saw me strolling J.P. on 10th Avenue.  And you know what?  I was proud that day.  Damn proud.

Today, as J.P. and I ran down the hill on Acklen Avenue, we saw Allen McCrary sitting on a wall abutting the sidewalk in front of his family's house.  Allen is what I call a "neighborhood friend," whose father happens to be one of the original members of the Fairfield Four.

Beaming, I'm sure, as we ran by, I yelled to Allen.  "Look at this guy!?!  Can you believe how tall he is?"  Allen laughed and waved at us.

Later, as J.P. and I ran up Halcyon Street near the end of our run, we saw my longtime friend, Joan Curry.  "Hey, Joanie!"  I yelled.  "Hey, Phil!  Hey J.P.!" she responded.  I smiled to myself, my heart filled with pride as my son ran along beside me.

So, that's what I was thinking about as J.P. and I sat on the picnic table, sipping our drinks, after our Sunday morning run.

From the first stroll with J.P., when I saw Ronnie Henderson, and from so many, many strolls through the neighborhood over the next few years, to this morning.  The same baby I had strolled through the neighborhood so many times so many years ago was running in the neighborhood, right beside me.

For so long, I've deeply missed those fleeting years of strolling through the neighborhood with J.P., then Joe.  I thought they were going forever and, in a way, they are.  And that's a bit sad.

What I didn't anticipate, though, what I couldn't have anticipated, is that one day J.P. would run beside me through the neighborhood, literally tracing my steps from so many years ago, back to the very first walk I took him on down 10th Avenue.  That we would run together, side by side.  

Bookends.