Throwing down at the Gobble, Gobble
A journey to the well, and beyond
Right about the time I hit SEND on last week’s newsletter, it dawned on me that I was probably going to have to run our local turkey trot solo. Our son wasn’t feeling well, and while I admired his persistence in telling us everything was fine (cough, cough), we made the tough decision to hold him out of the race.
Well, Lena made the decision. I didn’t want to be the one to say no when I knew how much this race meant to him, so she stepped up and made the call. It was obviously the right one because our son immediately admitted he wasn’t feeling great. He also confessed to holding the thermometer above his tongue to keep his temperature down.
Like I said, I admired his persistence in holding on to the idea that he could still have a quality race despite all the available evidence to the contrary. Kid’s a true runner.
That left me with a decision of my own to make. Would I go out there and run the four miles for fun and fitness? Or, would I go to the well and show my family, myself, and anyone else who cared what this old body can still do? If you’ve been reading this newsletter for any length of time, you already know the answer.
