Sunday was my last long run--eighteen miles that marked the beginning of my taper down to Coeur d’Alene. And like most long runs, it was a contemplative venture; mile after mile filled with thoughts that lead from one to another, flip back around, and then jump someplace else entirely. Yet this run was an even richer adventure of mind and memory than usual, placed as it was right in the middle of my 20th high school reunion weekend.
You get your miles in when you can, and it just turned out that I couldn’t get around running over my reunion weekend. So after a few hours’ sleep following Saturday’s festivities, I was up early hitting the pavement so I could be done in time for the Sunday morning events.
My high school alma mater, Cate School, is arguably one of the more beautiful settings in the United States (biased opinion here), and it was no sacrifice to run around its environs: golden foothills dotted with California oaks, expansive views of the Pacific and Channel Islands--just wonderful.
I hadn’t run on these roads since I’d been on high school cross country, and I hadn’t ridden on them for nearly as long. And it was as if each foot strike cracked open a batch of nearly lost memories, not just of old rides and runs, but of good, almost magical times with friends and schoolmates. Of course, some memories welled up that marked loss as well, for times passed that can’t be revisited--something made even more poignant by a couple somber Morrissey tracks on my MP3 player.
Still, I was buoyed by the run. It reminded me that I’m one of the luckiest people on earth to have had the opportunities I’ve had; to be surrounded by marvelous caring friends (even if we see each other only occasionaly), and to be graced with a wondrously great family. It’s easy to lose site of all I’ve been given when I get caught up in the daily march of life. It’s good to know that one long California run can bring it all back to the fore.
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