A Run on the Mountain

Jude, the boys and I are staying at a cabin in Monteagle this week.  On Monteagle Mountain, so to speak. 

I love it up here.  Always have.  Normally, we go to Santa Rosa Beach the first week of August.  This year, though, with COVID-19 raging in Florida, I thought it would be prudent for us to stay closer to home.  

It's been a great week so far, although I've had to stay in touch with the office more than I had hoped.  The weather has been awesome with high's in the low 80's and low's in the low to mid 60's.  

Today, J.P. and I went for an afternoon run on the Trail of Tears greenway.  It's a nice, flat run and, as a bonus, the greenway is covered by a canopy of trees for nearly the entire route.    

Starting out, I suggested to J.P. we could run four or five miles.  His choice.  As we got going, I was leaning toward four miles because my legs were feeling a bit heavy, perhaps because I've run every day this week, including six miles on Tuesday.

As we approached the two mile mark, I sneaked a peak a J.P.  In spite of the fact that we were running at a brisk pace, he was cruising along right beside me.  Effortlessly or so it seemed.  

"Four or five?" I asked.  

"Let's do five," J.P. replied.  

So, five miles it was.  

Now, often when we run, J.P. runs just behind me, off my shoulder.  It's almost like he's a car on the interstate, driving slightly slower than me in the lane beside me, right in my blind spot.  He rarely runs right beside me. 

Today, for some reason, was different.  He ran beside me and continued to do so as we made the turnaround at the 2.5 mile mark.  

I like to run negative splits (second half of a run faster than the first half) and part of me wanted to see what the kid could do, so I picked up the pace.  Well, shit, I thought to myself, as he picked up the pace and continued to run right beside me.  Interesting.

I sneaked another look at him and smiled.  He was just running, lost in thought, not even breathing hard.  This might be trouble, I thought.  Deep water ahead.  

As I began to tire a bit - to feel the run - I could see that he was just fine.  Still, I pushed the pace a little more, just to see how he would react.  He didn't react, though.  The little bastard just ran faster.  Damn, I thought.  

At that point, I knew this was not a run I was going to forget.  

For the first time since we've been running together - hell, for the first time in his life - I realized that he could probably outrun me if he wanted to.  Probably.  I'm not conceding yet.  

As we neared the beginning of the fifth mile, I felt a myriad of emotions.  Pride, for sure.  A little bit sad, too, for my lost youth.  A little jealousy if I'm being honest of his youth and the life he has ahead of him.  Happiness, yes, and pure, unadulterated joy at sharing a run - a damn fine run, at that - with my son.  Admiration.  I felt blessed, too, by the hand of God, to be running down the greenway with J.P. and sharing that experience with him.  Not talking, just running.  I felt a real closeness to him in that moment and I wanted to hold onto to it, always.  I wanted to stay in that moment, almost like the way you try to go back to sleep when wake from a dream, in an often futile effort to drift back into the dream again.

The last half mile was downhill and we ran hard, tougher, until we finished.  

Our average pace was 7:58 per mile.  The last two miles were 7:43 and 7:37, and we could have run faster.  It wasn't race pace but it was a good, hard run.

Afterwards, we sat outside Mooney's Market & Emporium, on a picnic table, and cooled down as we drank the water we brought.   

My favorite run of the year.  Maybe my favorite run in many years.