Summer hit. Colorado’s sunshine finally gave way (it snowed May 1st!). We had some traveling to do in lower elevations and I was eager to feel that advantage.
Our first trip was in June to the San Antonio, TX, area. I was going to run 5-6 miles and my father-in-law joined me for the first one (before blazing his own trail, of course). Holy humidity, Batman. I needed gills. Or scuba gear. I think I managed to do 4.5 miles. Pretty sure I’ve been swimming and gotten less wet.
A few weeks later, we were in my hometown of Claremore, OK. My dad joined me for a ‘little’ 3 miler. I should’ve done 6. Again, I was no match for the pouring sweat glands and saturated air. Then, in July, I was back in OK. I did some better planning nutritionally (read: drank a boat-load of water). I needed to get in about 9 miles. My dad ran 6 of it with me! Folks, this guy is 59 years old. It was a big deal for him to run 3 with me last month. For him to pull out 6? You bet I finished my 9!
In August, my husband’s brother and his wife came for a visit. So us girls decided to take off for an ‘easy’ 3 mile jog. Surely I’d have the upper hand since I’m acclimated to 5,000 feet. Nope. She ran my legs off and I almost puked!
So while my summer was full of its challenges, I realized the gift running gave me that I never would’ve expected: time with people I love. From my father-in-law, to sister-in-law, to my Dad, I treasured every painful step.