My son is at that age now, you know, the age where he questions everything.
Sure, it can be exhausting -- "Mama, why are we having this for dinner?" -- but I also love the fact that he questions things.
Over the course of the last three days, my son's questions about running seem to have reached maximum capacity.
- "Mama, are you fast?"
- "Mama: Does everyone have to have a water bottle when they run?"
- "Mama, can you run far far, like, wicked far?"
- "Mama, how come you swing your arms when you run?"
I've been trying, as best I can, to answer his queries...
- "I'm faster than some, but lots of people are faster than I am."
- "It's a good idea to always bring water."
- "I've run wicked far, but I know people who have run much farther than I have."
- "I don't know really, I guess my arms just do that by themselves."
And then, with the adapt interviewing skills like someone who has been a reporter his entire life, he asked me, "Mama, do you think you will always run?"
I thought about his question a bit before I answered, saying simply, "I hope so, buddy, but that may change, lots of things happen out of the blue sometimes."
As someone with a father who battles Multiple Sclerosis, I realized his question had a cut to it. My son did not ask if I always wanted to be able to run, but rather, if I thought that I would be able to run.
Children are so astute sometimes -- and mine makes me really think about things on a daily basis (though I'm sure it is not on purpose).
Every day that I put one foot in front of the other and run, it makes me smile. Even the ugly runs. Even the runs where it feels like every runner in the state of Massachusetts is passing me.
Forward is forward.
I swam this morning, since it was my cross-training day.
Tomorrow, it is back to running.