I started this morning with several miles on this dirt road, which is runnable for the first time in weeks, due to yesterday’s inch of sticky wet snow on top of the ice. I ran with the big boy, and the big brown dog, and for a short distance, the small boy too. All together, we put in a bit more than three miles from start to finish, and like thousands of other runners around the world, this morning we ran for Meg Menzies, a wife, daughter, mother, and runner who was killed by a drunk driver while running in Virginia on Monday. As I ran, I thought of her life, her family, her long love affair with running, and I felt gratitude for the legs that carried me, the road I could (suddenly, miraculously) run on, the boys and pup who kept me company, the husband I was running home to hug.
Do what you love as often as you can, and celebrate it. Life is short and precious.
We were lucky enough to have the company of a special little girl for much of the day, and I spent the time relishing the company of something else female in the house and reeling over the difference of a girl presence. Oh, my friends, let no one deceive you. The girlness of a little girl is wholly girl, and altogether different, miles away even, from boyness, which is wholly boy. And lest you think there’s something stereotyping or sexist in this observation, please go borrow a girl and a boy, and observe for yourself.
It’s a difference that makes the house a bit quieter, and also a bit gigglier. That listens more closely, and that gets lost more quickly. It’s a difference that requires eye contact for conversation, that seems to calm my savage beasts, that takes charge, that follows the rules.
And now and again, I think we all like different.