This night 30 years ago, my mother wasn't falling for a third round of false labor. Right up until her water broke. Very soon thereafter, in the dark, with no drugs, while my father drove them to the hospital, she gave birth to me on a raincoat in the back of a 1979 Chevrolet Citation. She will always be my hero for this.
This picture with my Grampa was taken about 2 weeks later. For the next 20 years, he and I would be inseparable. (it's the earliest pic of me I could find, I guess my parents have the others)
When my Dad holds babies he always wonders aloud what's hidden in them. What skills, gifts, ideas will they grow up to share? Who will they be? I think by a year and a half or 2, personalities start to emerge. Drool and all. And awesome t-shirts I wish still fit me.
But I look at my son now, and there's still so much to wonder (at almost 3), as there was for me then. So this is my moment of reflection--more public than most for me. It's been a great 30 years. Way too much to even consider in a blog post. But specific to running, I can tell you this:
I am faster, stronger, and leaner now than I ever have been.
Even though I ran CC in high school, endurance running is still relatively new to me. I started training for my first half-marathon, coincidentally, on my birthday 4 years ago. It's become more than a passing hobby--it's become something I love and something I identify with. Talk about an amazing birthday present. Seriously. So today begs the question: what will I say about me + running at 40? Or 50? Or 80? I hope the answer is, running and loving it.