Last week was Thanksgiving and since Thanksgiving is all about family (well, technically it's about a group of Europeans coming over to this country, taking land from the indigenous people that already lived there, letting said people take pity on them when they were starving to death, thanking them with a shared meal and then murdering them - but the Hallmark version of the holiday is much more pleasing), it's only fitting that several of my runs last week were a family affair.
My dad was my first running partner. When I ran my first race at age 4, he was the starter. When I entered my first road run, he ran with me until I shooed him away saying I wanted to do it by myself. We've shared a run together many times and entered many races together. Not once have I ever beaten him, nor do I expect to. We even ran the Cincinnati Flying Pig Marathon Relay together. He still complains that it was dark when he started. In any event, it was kind of nice when he offered to do my training runs with me over the holiday weekend.
Thanksgiving morning it was cold, misty and miserable. We hit the road at 8:oo a.m. and did 4 soggy miles. I heard all about his trip to Hawaii and he heard about my training up until that point. Saturday, I had 12 to do. Dad ran the 4 miles to the local park with me and then left me to do my additional 4 in the park before I headed back. As with other long runs, my mom came along to bring me beverages. It was family bonding over sweat and it was actually kind of fun.
All you other families can have your multi-coursed Thanksgiving meal with 63 relatives and 76 different desserts. I'll take a sunny day in the park with my family anyday. Fewer miles wouldn't hurt though...
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