By Kara Goucher
Last Saturday was the kind of day that only comes along once in a great while. I woke up to a beautiful fall Portland day–rare indeed. I nursed my son, and then ate breakfast with him as he watched the world around him from his bouncy chair. I waited until 11:10am, so that I could enjoy the moment when he turned one week old, and then I passed him off to my mom. I told her I was going for a walk.
But I didn’t put on my pants and sweatshirt that I normally wear when I walk. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was ready to run. I put on some running capris and a long-sleeve shirt. I put on my running shoes and walked out the door. I walked briskly for a good five minutes. I kept thinking about what a great day it was and how perfect my son is. I got excited as I started into a slow jog, then a run. It was slow, and it was painful. But it was one of the best runs, if not the greatest run, of my life. I have never been so happy, running in the sunshine, thinking about Colt waiting for me at home. It was amazing.
That’s the thing about running: your greatest runs are rarely measured by racing success. They are moments in time when running allows you to see how wonderful your life is. Sappy, I know. But it will go down as one of the greatest runs of my life. I have never loved running more, and I have never loved so deeply before.
Happy running!
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