Thursday, January 31, 2013

To Pay for Our Innocent Crimes....

One down.  Eleven to go.  A year that seemingly just announced its arrival shall - at midnight's stroke tonight - take up permanent resident status in history's dustbin.  I reckon that it is true when they say that in a moment everything changes.  If not a moment, then in the span of thirty-one days.  

There are carts and there are horses and being Irish I learned a damn long time ago about the importance of resisting the temptation to put the two in the wrong order.  That being said, the passage of tomorrows into yesterdays is not a wholly unwelcome development in my day-to-day.  Within the next sixteen months or so, presuming the continuing presence of good fortune and good health for all concerned, the Missus and I shall watch both of our children get married.  As the youngest of six whose father did not live long enough to see me graduate from grammar school, there is a large part of me that views it as my duty to be upright and accounted for all events through June 6, 2014, up to and including Jess and Rob's marriage that day, while also viewing any and all things that come thereafter to be gravy.  

Slightly more than three years ago I took up running as my principal form of recreation and exercise.  I run for any number of reasons.  The most important of them, though, is for my mental health.   I am my father's son.  While he and I shared only slightly more than fourteen years together I saw enough to understand the importance of peace.  Inner peace.  For all of his immense mental and intellectual gifts - and with the possible  exception of my oldest brother Bill - my father was the most terrifyingly brilliant mind I have ever known, he never seemed to find peace.  He chased down one rabbit hole after another in pursuit of it but was - or so it seemed to me anyway - never able to grab hold of it.  

I will never be any better than average as a runner.  In fact, three-plus years into it I am still hesitant to refer to myself as a "runner" as opposed to someone who runs because the former suggests to me a stature that others have attained and that I shall not.  Yet I hope to be able to do it until my knees and other assorted body parts break down completely.  It is worth too much to me to stop doing it.  


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