Two “doesn’t get any better” moments in a row. Truly, it doesn’t…
This morning, Seth said he wanted to run with me. He has the day off preschool, and so we had some daddy/Seth time planned. Most days, that means a trip to the coffee shop, Mudhouse usually (btw, Seth recently declared that he does not like Starbucks. He likes Mudhouse. Score one more for the local, independent against The Man*).
However, Seth surprised me with the announcement that he wanted to join me on my run. I’m no madcap runner, but my route is a little over two miles. And 50 yards is about the longest distance I’ve seen Seth run – I mean, he’s 5. This is the kid, mind you, who simply can not stop thumping and jumping and bouncing and catapulting any waking hour – but as soon as we start a walk, it takes him the whole of 30 seconds to begin with: “Daddy, can you pleeeaaasssseee carry me on your shoulders? I’m soooooooo tired.”
At first I resisted, thinking the whole escapade would be futile and I’d end up frustrated. But heck, he was so eager, who could resist. So we said we would run to Mudhouse (about halfway on my route), me fully expecting we would make it about a whole 2 blocks and then walk the rest.
Dangit if that kid didn’t take it all the way, never letting up steam. Our pace wasn’t blazing, but steady. About every fourth step, Seth would say, “Daddy, this is so much fun / Daddy, I love this / Daddy, I’ve never gotten to jog before / Daddy, can we do this to Mudhouse other days? / Daddy, why do you run like a gazelle?” (okay, I made that last one up)
It was a blast. Running with my 5 year old son at my side. It was a little interesting to have slug-bugging** interjected into my running routine, but hey, spice it up, I say.
Crazy thing is that once we landed at Mudhouse and finished the strawberry-banana smoothie we shared, he said he wanted to run the whole way back. And we did.
Seth’s very first run: 2 miles. I’m impressed. And, mainly, filled with joy.
*Seth’s vehemance against the so-called “Man” is selective. He is still quite willing to imbibe a java chip light frappuccino whenever another family member has one he can scarf.
**Slug-bugging, for those unitiated, is the constant, ongoing game of punching the nearest family member in the arm at the sight of any Volkswagon Bug and declaring, post-hit, “Slug Bug.”