On Running & Running On

I ran away from home this morning.  

I don't remember the last time I had two hours of daylight all to myself.  I was borderline giddy as I exchanged hugs and high fives with the kids under the doorway dangling pinwheel flowers.  I emptied their cubbies of last week's crafts and smiled wide as I headed for the door clutching the cotton ball snowman and holding the hand printed in water colors.  There were no conference calls on my calendar, no errands to run, no appointments to keep.

The sun edged into the morning sky just high enough to spill silver glitter onto the waves and cast shadows on the sand.  The lowering tide cut a trail smooth, packed, wide and safe for even the weariest of ankles to trod.

This good and perfect gift was mine to unwrap.  Music blared, waves crashed, knees pounded, and arms pumped. In this constant motion I found stillness.  I gave words to my whispering thoughts.  I panted alive and unfettered.  I chased my shadow and felt a sweet kind of lonely.  

I made it to the pier and back again, yet never felt my direction change.  A fleeting hour passed before I cut back through the soft sand, turned the ignition and returned to my responsible agenda.


I realize I could have saved you a minute or two of your time by just writing: "I went for a long run on the beach.  It was awesome."  But while that would be efficient for you, it wouldn't be any fun for me.  I get a kick out of divulging information the long and twisty way.  

While you're here (big assumption, I know), this might also be a good time to come clean about the blog.  It appears I have taken over and decided that anything goes.  I had purposed from the beginning to write only about the kids.  I wanted to capture and remember the funny, amazing, heart warming things they say and do, and to articulate the incredible impact they have on me. 

But as I write more, I remember I love to write just because, even when there is no point, even when it is about, well, nothing.  Much like a Seinfeld episode, but without the humor.  

And lest you think I just love to write my little melancholy heart out and couldn't care less about whether anyone reads it, let's just clear that one up right now.  The fact that someone might read it--even if it's only my Mom and those genetically predisposed to love me--that is what fuels me.  The more I hear from those of you who read, the more I want to write.  

So, to recap:
1) I went for a run on the beach.  It was awesome.
2) I am tossing out the rules for this blog and writing about "whatever I want, gorrshh!" (Yes, that was a Napoleon Dynamite quote, in arguably poor context.)
3) I like comments. A lot. They keep me running.  They keep me writing.  They keep me writing about running, and yes, it is questionable whether that is a good thing.  What is NOT questionable is that I REALLY like hearing from you.  

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go for a quick run.  Feel free to talk amongst yourselves in the comments section.  Because, did I mention that I really like hearing from you?


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