Yesterday, we spent the middle of day at the beach. The weather had warmed up to the high 60's/low 70's and it was actually pleasant to sit in one of our beach chairs and watch the boys - lunatics, especially Joe - swim in the cold ocean. Lots of people of the beach but few people in the ocean. The waves were bigger than normal, though, and Joe couldn't get enough of them.
I managed to sunburn the tops of my feet, horribly, but that's another story. Epic fail on my part, as one of my rock solid goals in life is never to get sunburned again.
After we left the beach and returned home in our electric blue, 6-seater golf cart - street legal, of course - I took JP for a run on the Longleaf Pine Trail. It's one of my favorite trails in the world to run on, possibly because it's in Santa Rosa Beach and I have such bond memories, in general, of vacations we have had here. Possibly, thought, it's because I discovered the trail by accident more than a decade ago, and it's been a bit like a secret place I go to run, once a year for a few days, to rejuvenate and find myself again.
I was looking forward to sharing the Longleaf Pine Trail with him. It's funny but when I take JP for a run for the first time on one of my regulate routes, or trails, it's like I see it for the first time. I notice things I haven't noticed before or, at least, not for a while. That's the thing about having kids, I think. Through them, you see the world, your world, differently. I know I've found that to be the case with my boys.
It's a single track trail and since he'd never run it before, I stayed in front of him. We didn't talk much. Rather, we listened to Book of Rules, a reggae playlist on Spotify I got from Hiss Golden Messenger a few years ago. It was nice - almost a form of meditation - to run with JP through the coastal woods, sand under our feet and surrounded by pine trees, with reggae music as our constant companion.
Perhaps because I had run six miles on the trail the day before or, maybe, because I've been under the weather and taken a few days off running since we were in Sewanee, I struggled with the run, particularly the last half of it. JP pushed me, as he always does, and we ran an 8:42 pace, which is fast considering the trail has a lot of roots, switchbacks, and sand. I was breathing hard and, as we approach the trailhead, I lost the internal battle with my head and decided to stop at five miles and walk.
As I slowed down, I pointed out they way home to JP - straight up the road, a turn onto 30A, then another right turn into Old Florida Village. He listened intently as he breathed normally, nodded, and off he went. With more than a little pride, I watched his figure as it receded in the distance ahead of me. I was walking, then jogging again, and he was flying. Naturally and effortlessly.
In that moment, I felt like he had taken something from me that I had given him, willingly, a gift I wanted him to have as his own. Something I have nourished and cared for lovingly over the years. My love of running. I think - I hope - he has it now. I also hope he will take care of it as I have and maybe, someday, pass it along to his son or daughter, and that maybe a part of my soul will live on through that shared love of running.
I said a little prayer that I often say when I watch him run.
"Please run with him, Lord. Run with him. Now and always."
I jogged home, a 55 year old man feeling every one of those 55 years, and met him outside our house. He gave me a fist bump, and we walked the circle through Old Florida Village to cool down after our run.
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