Of Running and Fatherhood

Saturday’s 6-miler brought with it a special treat: my six-year-old son Kolbe, who came along on his bike. We weren’t sure how long he would be able to keep up, so I ran just one mile out, then came home, and repeated this process three times. Kolbe stuck with me for the first two trips, or four miles. Pretty impressive! Sweet father-son bonding.

Of course, the parental humbling came when I got home, just in time to relieve my wife, who had been feeding one-year-old Sebastian a peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich, but needed to get out the door to take seven-year-old Monica to ballet. I waltzed in from my run, took little Sebastian into my arms, and kissed the missus goodbye. (Superdad to the rescue!)

Well, Sebastian was so upset to see Mommy departing that he ejected his still-digesting peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich … right on one of my beloved running shoes! (The ones I don’t wear for anything other than running because, well, I like to keep them pristine for the mud, dirt, and grime of my town’s streets!)

So, in one fell swoop God not only gave me the blessing of exercise and quality time with my son, but also some humility and detachment, thanks to a shoe that’s no longer quite so pretty …

(h/t RunnerMom for inspiring the title of this post)