Cherish Your Long Runs; Each is its Own Adventure

As the weekend approaches and you're thinking about your long run, look forward to it. Never say, "I have to do a long run this weekend."

Say, "I need to do a long run this weekend," or better yet, "I get to do a long run this weekend."

It's all a matter of perspective.

When I set out for a long run, I think of it as an adventure.

Who will I meet? Will I make some new friends? I count new friends as gifts that make me rich.

Several of us met 45 minutes before the rest of the Run Tampa group on Saturday to get in a few early miles; I met Scott, who joined our group run for the first time. He was faster than me, but, luckily, Rick was there to pace him. They took off while Frank and I enjoyed an easy few miles and pleasant conversation just as the sun was rising. I am not a morning person, as a rule, but running while everyone else is sleeping somehow makes it more special. And running with a good friend? Well, that's the icing on the cake.

Reminds me of when I was growing up, and my brother Milt and I would get up well before daylight to go fishing at White Sands Beach. We usually parked our gear on the dock well before sunup, before the fish were biting, but being there that early, when everyone else was asleep, made it an adventure whether we caught anything or not.

Saturday, shortly after daylight, my small early running group arrived at Lake Rogers Park, in Odessa, for a few miles of trail running. There we met a dozen other members of our group for the official Run Tampa weekend group run.

The main loop at that park is only 2.1 miles around, and the longest route only gives you 2.5, not much in the way of distance, but it's so pretty there that I never tire of it. Some of our group went around one lap, most went two, and some went three.

My long run half complete, I stopped to pick up a cup of iced coffee and then headed for the Upper Tampa Bay Trail to finish my run.

When I set out for my long runs, I always wonder if I'll stumble across any wildlife. On the Upper Tampa Bay Trail, I look for the aligator that lives in the pond by the dump and the other one that hangs out in the canal near the Waters Avenue underpass, but neither was out.

I chatted with a handful of strangers at the water kiosk before setting out, and while there I noticed a man who appeared to be doing speed work, half mile repeats. It caught my attention because I had been there two days before doing half mile repeats on exactly that same stretch of trail. Once I started my run, I fell in alongside him as he trotted along cooling down. We got to talking, and the next couple of miles flew by. I invited him to join us for our group runs, and then we parted company as I headed out for more miles.

As I rounded one bend, a large blue beach umbrella caught my eye. It was sheltering a couple of fishermen. I stopped to chat. They hadn't caught anything yet. I asked what they usually catch and was surprised to learn that they catch mullet and snook along that part of the canal. Since that spot is several miles inland, I was surprised, but the man explained that the water is brackish up to the spillover.

On the way back, I asked how it was going. They had caught two catfish by then, a good day.

It was getting late by then, almost 11 o'clock, so, while the trail had been packed a couple hours earlier, there were few people out at that time of day. Still, I came upon a dad and his two young girls. They were both on bikes with training wheels. He was riding very, very slowly, giving them advice, talking to them in a fatherly "I cherish you" tone. I thought about how so many other kids were inside watching TV or playing video games. This father was teaching his girls four important lessons:

1. It's good to be outside, breathing fresh air and hanging out with Mother Nature.

2. Exercise is a pleasure, and it's what we do.

3. Family time is important.

4. Daddy loves you.

I thought about the fact that he could have been out of work for all I knew, but on that day he was providing those girls with something money can't buy, and something many parents never give their children.

When I passed them - yes, I was running faster than they were riding - I couldn't help but say, "You're a good father."

They went down a different direction, so I had occasion to pass them again, later. This time, as I came upon them, it was in a shaded area, but the sun was bright at an opening in the distance where the trees parted. So the lighting effect caused the threesome to practically glow.

The man, still on his bike, was holding the bike of one of the girls while she awkwardly climbed back on. It was just a little too big for the tiny girl. Her sister, just a tad bigger, had paused on the saddle of her bike and was turned around, patiently waiting just a short distance ahead.

My mind took a snapshot of that ethereal scene, and I added it to my catalogue of special moments of the day.

When I go out for a long run, it's never just a long run.