I ran on Father's Day

I'm here at the park for a run. It will be my first attempt at a full mile since my injury. I hope I don't feel any pain.

I walk over to the picnic table in the corner to stretch my calves. It's shaded and there's a gentle breeze to take my mind off of it being 80 degrees. I prop my right leg up on the bench and lean forward, looking out to the field ahead of me. There's a pavilion with a bunch of people running around, playing catch with a football. Smoke rises from a grill. Closer to me, there is a man swinging a child around his waist. The child is giggling. "Again, daddy!" he says.

Oh shit. It's Father's Day.

I switch legs.

What do people do on Father's Day? I can't even remember the last time I spent this day with my dad.

I bring my left leg back, turn around and walk over to the trail.

Here we go. I press the start button on my Timex, a beep sounds, and so do my feet, shuffling through the mud on the ground.

There is no foot pain. But my heart aches.

Yeah, we will never be able to make up the lost childhood where band recitals were missed, dances were never danced at father/daughter socials, and no golf clubs ever swung together on a Saturday morning. I know it was never meant to be this way. But life happens. Hell, injuries happen and we heal. Why can't this other pain go away so easily?

And just like that, I'm done with this run. 9:23. Not too bad for the first time out. I walk back to my car. Red eyes match the Powerade I reach for on the passenger seat.

I take a long sip and sniff back the tears that have turned into snots. I must stretch again.

At the same picnic table, I prop up the right leg, lean in. God, this stretch feels good.

Next to me now is a woman, mid-30s, on a blanket. She is lying down, face up, looking at the clouds.

Why isn't she with her father on this day? Did she grow up without one too? Or, wait...

Shit, my father is still alive. I jog back over to my car, open the door, and reach for my phone in the cup holder. I scroll through the address book, stopping at 'Dad'. I could text him, 'Happy Father's Day!', to avoid the awkward pauses in a phone conversation.

My thumb hits send.

It's ringing.

My stomach sinks.

"Hi Dad," I say.

Aqua Jog on Land

Though you will catch me walking sometimes, I am a runner again. Starting out slow, and with different arm form, I feel anew. Going slower has allowed me to stop and smell, well, the trees, especially when it rains.

I "ran" 9.5 miles this week- Mon-Wed-Fri included 3 minutes walking and 3 minutes running for an average of about 25 minutes. Today, I did a longer session, with more running periods- 2 min walking, 5 minutes running for about 37 minutes, covering roughly 3.5 miles. During that run, it started to downpour, so much so that it was as if I was being showered by the sky and prancing through bath water all at the same time. Simply amazing.

During the run I felt pain-free, efficient with my improved form, and in not too bad of shape, making me believe that the cross training has paid off. After the run, I felt little ache in the foot and proceeded to do foot drills in the wet grass. The socks were soaked already so it didn't matter being barefoot.

With this new form, I feel like a completely different runner than before the injury. And it just seemed to pop out of nowhere that maybe what I was doing with my arms for the last ten years was incorrect. I guess being on the disabled list and instead watching James's beautiful form helped me to see that. My goals have changed because of this, too. For the fall, I will start over and focus on the distance I was introduced to when I began running in 2000, the 5k.