Heading out of town to a family wedding is a great time to do a couple of things: eat cake with boyfriend, dance with your uncle, attempt to dance with your nephew (and settle for dancing near him), and take a run with your brother. It has been months since I have had someone to run with, so when Drew suggested we take a run, despite my concern for my hurt foot, I could not say no. If anything, I figured I had to test the foot out sometime, and with Ken riding his bike in circles around us, there was never going to be a better opportunity.
I prepared for the run by drinking vodka tonics the night before, and nibbling on a peanut butter cookie in the morning. Ken drank orange juice and had a bacon and egg sandwhich, while my brother took in some granola. Again, I have to applaud myself on eating before a workout. I still have yet to believe this helps me in any way, but I’m willing to continue to try. The powers that be in the fitness world claim this is the healthiest thing to do, and I am determined to believe them.
We headed out to Goleta Beach and ended up loping through campus, checking out our old stomping ground. I got a little nostalgic for a linguistics class I particularly enjoyed, and my brother found some hurdles set up on the track to leap over. The best part of the run was watching Drew play with the landscape. He had not run in a few weeks, and had more energy than a kid at a skatepark. Drew was definitely freestyle running. Like a deer, he leapt fences. He hopped up on any bench in sight. Stairs sucumbed to him as he powered up and down them. In a moment that riveled Lisel’s bounding in the gazebo during The Sound of Music, Drew glided across a set of picnic tables. And he did all of this without losing a breath, and while holding a conversation about how we first learned to read, and while running away from me and back to me and around me because I am that much slower than him. The kid is a spark plug.
Some people are born to run. Their bodies are built for speed, and the possess the drive to push themselves to the limit. My brother is one of those people, the kind I’ll never be because I love running differently than he does.
Oh, and did anyone hear about this story?
We were on 101 shortly after the accident, and drove right by the crashed plane, its wing broken and on the shoulder, separated from the body. It was an incredibly surreal sight. And by some miracle, no one was killed, and the injuries were minor. I like this world very much.
Drew thanked me for wanting to run a bit longer than he did. I ran out the Goleta Pier and back, adding another ten minutes to are departure time – ten minutes which might have made a difference on how close we were to being involved in the accident.