In the summer, things slow down and that slower pace can allow some time to reflect. Unless you do track workouts with your running group on summer nights, then the pace picks up, but maybe there’s still time to reflect. When you are finished. And gasping for breath. And hunched over your shoes.
That was me last Thursday at the side of the track wondering, Why do I do this? Thirty years into this why am I still running? There’s the obvious and rationale answer that as long as I am running and I’m getting faster than I’m not getting older. But if I push past he greeting card philosophy, I’d say I’m still doing it because I rarely feel more alive than when I’m running. I feel the most comfortable with who I am when I run.
Running, like writing, is about putting in the work day after. It doesn’t come quickly or easily. There’s something elemental about the process that I really enjoy. It forces you to be patient with yourself and willing to go to uncomfortable places. There are just no shortcuts.
Not a bad example to set for the girls.
The girls were down the Cape at Camp Grandmom this past week and the couch was lonely.
Dash was a bit out of sorts without his sisters. Every night he’d search the house for them before reluctantly coming to bed.
He was quite happy to get in the car to pick them up. He’d truly prefer if I let him drive. He does not like to be put in the passenger seat.
This photo was only 50% posed. I think they did miss us a little.
This year’s Camp Grandmom included ukulele lessons in the camp fee.
The camp counselors looked a little tired so we headed to the Orleans farmer’s market and artist’s cottages.
Somehow, I got hoodwinked and this turned into a big shopping trip.
Michelle found some Venetian beads in a consignment store.
And the girls got some ‘American’ bikinis.
They were anxious to get back to the pool and try them out.
Old Maid by the pool: never causes arguments.
I wish we had this level of concentration for math facts.
Camp Grandmom wore out the kids and the counselors. Ally has mastered the practice of using the seatbelt as a travel pillow.
Sunset on the bridge, no traffic, a block of Heart sing-a-long power ballads, another good end to a Saturday.