That day was also Day #1 in my kinda nutty plan to run 1,000 miles in 2012. I'm honestly not sure I can hack it. I'm two weeks in and feeling fine, but keeping up an average of 3 miles a day when I don't really want to run everyday will be tricky. It's a nice, round, solid goal though and likely a suitable companion to whatever marathon I decide to train for this year.
The weekend after the New Year, I flew to St. Louis, a former home where I've spent very little time in the last 7-8 years. It's rather amazing to me that a place can be so important for so long and then all your ties can seemingly evaporate, parents move away, friends move away, and that city simply becomes a place on a map you used to call home. Used to. But now my brother and sister-in-law have settled there and it's cheaper to fly there than Kansas City, where my best friend lives, so all of the sudden St. Louis has resurfaced in my life. Not just the home of my baseball team, but the home of people I love, worth a visit. Worth a plane ticket, worth the calories in a Ted Drewes frozen custard, worth the vacation days, worth all the standard units of measure by which I justify most decisions.
As I am committed to this kinda nutty 1,000 mile goal, I needed to run a couple times while in town. I was staying at the home of my best friend's parents, the McDermotts, a home I graced as often as my own in high school. I spent years in that back bedroom talking about boys, years in that basement watching movies and crushing on my best friend's older brother, years of summers during college spending every hour I wasn't waiting tables shopping and gossiping and daydreaming with my best friend. Her home was always more of a home base for our friendship than mine. She is the baby of the family and we didn't have to worry about those bothersome younger siblings of mine when we were at her place. Plus, she had a pool.
The first morning I ran in St. Louis, I took as familiar a trek as is possible. I ran from her home to what used to be mine. Round trip, it's a hilly four miles. I ran past our old high school, past the curve in the road where I got my one and only speeding ticket (mere weeks after getting my license), past the elementary school where I met the best friend who has remained my best friend. I didn't spend any time in front of my old house. What's there to do, really? I ran to the end of the driveway, gave the house a good glance, then turned around and ran back.
I thought for a moment what it would be like to be a child and capable of seeing snippets of the future. If my 15 year old self, all chubbiness and zits and ugly glasses (but such a good student), could have looked out the window one January morning and seen a 31 year old version of herself (less chubby, less zits, contacts), would it have made her happy? Hopeful? I wonder now if I'd like to see some small inkling of my future self, in passing. I think it would have been nice, at 15, to see a smiling, healthy, rosy-cheeked and running future Me. Even if I knew nothing else, it would have been nice to see the happiness. No sense telling Younger Me about the stress of student loans, the myriad heartaches coming her way, the anxiety of jobs and life in general. I think my younger self would have seen the simple, basic truth of that morning. My best friend is still my best friend, the most important people in my life at 15 remain the most important people at 31, my life is good, my body is strong, and I'm happy. It would have been inspiring knowledge for a girl at 15.
And it's good to know now, at 31.
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