This is the 7th anniversary of my father’s death. I spent the day forgetting about it and remembering it. I ran a beautiful hour through Mundy Park. I explored different places, including an old logging road. I had an awesome run and remembered something my mom recently told me: my dad used to run before he would drive down to Chicago for his job. I had no idea of this.
So when I run, I think of Dad. When I got to that old logging road–just past Mundy Lake–I thought of Dad. What would he he do? It was an uphill stairs/battle. He would go forward, of course. And so I did. I just kept running.
I should say that today was one of my best runs. I woke up not feeling like running. It was gray, and I thought it would be sunny. But I went anyway, forcing myself, despite my shoulder and back hurting. I first dressed in long pants and then walked outside to see how warm it seemed. I then walked backed in and dressed in shorts. When I got to the forest, I was… fucking thrilled… at how nice it was after about 10 minutes (it takes me a while to warm up to running). The entire run was cool and perfect. I could have run another 4 miles easily if I hadn’t have needed to nourish myself.
The rainforest coolness and stamina that I have gathered over the past few weeks of not stopping when running really propelled me onward, even on the hills.
Well, Dad. Thank you for passing down to your daughter this love of running. I had a shot of Bourbon and listened to Joni tonight after that workout! I think you would understand.