A perfect day, really, for me to run my 1000th mile for 2020. Which is precisely what I did as I ran down Fairfax Avenue, toward home, this morning. The third mile of a four mile run gave me 1,000 miles for the year.
I've run 1,000 miles in a year before but not in a while. I came across a photo from 2010 a few weeks ago, taken at Shelby Bottoms with me holding a sign that said "1,000 in 2010!" I remember that morning, well, in fact. I drank an ice cold New Castle beer in the parking let, then met Carley Meade and J.P. for lunch in East Nashville at Battered and Fried after my run. J.P. wasn't even three years old.
I'm sure I called my mom that morning and told her I'd hit the 1,000 mile mark.
Now, a decade letter, J.P. turns thirteen in three months and is about to get his first cell phone for Christmas, although he doesn't know that.
And my mom and Carley are gone, which in many ways still is so hard for me to believe. I miss them both so much.
On many of my runs this year - as the miles passed - I thought of my mom an Carley. So many times, in the solitude of my runs, or as I walked to cool down afterwards, one or both of them was in my heart and on my mind.
I joked, often, in the past year that I was going to outrun Covid-19. In reality, though, I ran scared. Scared I was going to catch the virus, or that it would catch me. I wanted to be in the best shape I could be in just in case I got the virus, hoping that, somehow, there would be less of a chance I would die if I was running a lot.
I also thought, perhaps foolishly or perhaps not, that if I was running a lot, I would immediately know if I had Covid-19, because if I struggled with my breathing during a run or had a bad run, I would know I was sick. When I'm running a lot, in general, I'm in touch with my body and aware of how I feel. I noice the smallest muscle aches, heavy legs, or breathing issues. Yes, that's paranoia, but to me, there's some logic to that line of thinking, too.
I ran, for sure, to keep my sanity during what was probably the strangest year of my life. The pandemic. The shut down of the economy last spring. The presidential campaign. Trump's madness before and after the election. The election.
The pandemic. Always, the pandemic. Especially today, the pandemic rages. Twice as many people in Tennessee are testing positive on a daily basis as last spring, when the economy was shut down. And, still, we soldier on, foolishly in many cases. Waiting desperately for the vaccine to reach us.
The past few weeks, I've been scared I would get the virus with less than 100 miles left and not be able to hit 1,000 miles for the year. Sure, what I really was afraid of was getting the virus and dying, but, in my mind, I convinced myself I only was afraid of how getting the virus would affect my running.
I ran 1,000 miles for so many reasons.
I ran to feel better about myself. I ran to reach a goal. I ran to stay young, for my boys and for me. I ran out of vanity. I ran to say healthy.
I ran because I am obsessive about running. I ran because I am disciplined about running.
I ran because I am a runner. I ran because it's what I do. I ran because at my core, it's the very essence of who I am. I ran because it's what I've done for 30 years.
I ran to feel closer to God. I ran to honor God. I ran because God has blessed me with the ability to run and to waste that ability, that talent, would be, for me, one of the worst kind of sins.
I ran because it makes me feel alive. I ran to meditate. I ran to clear my head. I ran to think. I ran to try, often in vain, to understand. I ran to celebrate life.
I ran to deal with grief and sadness that overwhelmed me and almost brought me to my knees, as I visited Carley and her family at Alive Hospice. I ran in tears when Carley died.
I ran because I missed my mom.
I ran because I wanted, and needed, to be by myself. I ran because I needed to unplug and unwind. I ran because I needed to blow off steam.
I ran because J.P. wanted to run with me and because I wanted to run with him. I ran because, when I die, I'll never forget those spring and summer runs with J.P., my heart filled with pride and love to run through the neighborhood, or in Sewanee, with my son running beside me.
I ran for all of those reasons and for so many more. I'm a runner.
I'm so thankful to have been healthy in 2020. There were only a handful of occasions when my back was hurting or I otherwise didn't feel well enough to run. That's a huge blessing.
1,000 miles in 2020, at age 54. Not bad for an old man.
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