For The Long Run

I ran across Scotland recently. 

Virtually.

Well, I did the running, but it wasn't in Scotland. I ran those ninety-some miles in Oakland. It was a way for me to experience the world outside my neighborhood without actually leaving my neighborhood. If this seems a little counterintuitive, that would be correct. It is the part of not making sense of these altered times in which we find ourselves living that does make sense. 

For my birthday last June, my family gave me the gift of a fitness tracker. It was a way for me to return to those days of yesteryear when I used to keep a running journal. When I first moved to California, I dutifully documented each of the runs I took, including the time, distance and route. The last one I completed was done the year my father died. My father was the one who coaxed me into running in the first place. After he was gone, some of the joy I had was leeched out of that avocation. So I stopped writing it down.

But I didn't stop running. Though I did slow down a bit. And I had some guests to bring along on my trail. I pushed my baby son in a jogging stroller. And not long after that, I leashed up our dog when she joined the family. I was the consistent part of the equation, as were the streets and sidewalks around our house. Like so many other elements of my life, I fell into a rut that felt comfortable. A routine that gave me solace in the face of enormous change. Many years later, after our dog had run her last mile with me and my son had long since grown out of his stroller, I received the gift of accountability. Technology that allowed me to keep a digital journal of all the steps and miles I was going to be doing anyway. Which turned the whole thing into a bit of a video game. 

Once again I was thrust into a position of competing with myself. I felt challenged to push myself beyond the rut. I started to find myself further from my home, staying away for longer periods of time. I recognized the conditioning I was getting from my digital coach, but I was still a sucker for those gold stars. 

Oh, and I felt better too. I realized that I was on the verge of being the same age as my father when we took our last run together. I was holding back time. "Running" is a kind description for the plodding I do these days, but it keeps me off the couch, with legs and arms and lungs all working. And when my wife offered up this virtual trek across Scotland, complete with souvenir T shirt and medal, I leapt at the chance. 

When I looked out at the Irish Sea, with the island of whole of Scotland behind me, I felt satisfied. And oddly enough, right at home.