There’s another runner in my family—my 15-year-old son. Having him in the house is great motivation for my marathon training. Sometimes, though, things can get a bit stressful.
“Ma, you have to buy more Clif Bars.”
“I just ate the last one.”
“Ma, that’s my running shirt you’re wearing.”
“Oh. Really? I had no idea. I found it in the wash.”
When it’s my turn to carpool from his track practice, I anxiously await his arrival in my car. I’m eager to soak up any information I can get to put towards my own running.
“What did the coach have you do today?”
“No, I mean what kind of run did you do?
“Just a regular run.”
“Where did you run?”
“How did it go?”
On some weekends, he doesn’t run with his team and has to practice on his own. On those occasions, when he announces he’s going for a run, I stop whatever I’m doing and get ready to join him. He looks down—since he now towers over me—and always says the same thing: “Ma, what if grandma wanted to go running with YOU?”
While I try to imagine this, I’m not deterred.
“Don’t worry. You can pretend I’m not there.”
So, we head out in silence. Yet, at some point over the next few miles, depending on his mood, he’ll run alongside me. And if I’m really lucky, we actually have a conversation. We talk and talk—about school, friends, and life.
I love these times very much, and love that running brings us together in this way. I look forward to more runs with him over the next few months as I train for the marathon. I often wonder, in the years and decades to come, if he’ll remember all the times when he ran with his middle-aged mom. I know I sure will.