Run with me
Dear Izzy, Max, and Kate,
My biggest fear isn’t losing everything; it’s wasting this rare opportunity to change the direction of our life.
I may never get the chance again to work with a clean canvas. The freedom and possibilities sometimes feel overwhelming. But I’m choosing to let inspiration carry me, like a long run with no plan and no watch. Just a wide road leading into the country.
I’ve had enough of “living intentionally” for now. Planning everything, leaving nothing to chance or to inspiration, is letting fear guide your life. Perhaps out of arrogance that life can really be controlled; The future predicted by your level of diligence with numbers and projections.
Planning is good. Believing it leaves you safe from failure and or catastrophe is pride.
This week I’ve started the process of living in the moment more often. I’m helping some friends with a great new business that’s taking off. My old friend Bill is the CEO at the Peach Truck. Each day, sometimes late in the afternoon or evening, he tells me what I can do to help the next day. It’s hard work. And I love it. It’s a free flowing way to live right now while I look for what’s next.
It’s a Bob Marley tee shirt tucked into khaki shorts with my old Margaritaville belt I bought at the Key West flea market and a ball cap life.
I’m working harder than I have in 20 years. But I’m also meeting and talking to some great people. Smiling and saying “thank y’all” 100s of times a day. I told mommy a few days ago that I love my life right now. While it’s a temporary thing for me in all likelihood it’s something that is bringing me great satisfaction and joy right now.
A few nights ago I sat on the couch with you kids. I was tired after a long day of working at the Farmer’s Market. Max, you wanted to wrestle and so we did for a minute.
“Daddy is tired, Max,” I said. “You win.”
“Why are you tired, Daddy?” you said, not used to me being tired after a day at work.
“I worked hard today boy. Harder than I’m used to,” I replied. You look puzzled for a moment.
“What kind of truck did you drive?” you said.
Naturally, because I worked hard, you thought I must have driven some sort of truck. Perhaps a tow truck, a dump truck, maybe a tractor.
You smiled, as if for the first time in your life you understood what I had done with a day.
Two nights ago we sat on the front porch. I put in another long day of work after running before dawn – clinging to the idea that I can still do my races this year. After work I came home and cut tree limbs and drug them to the street. You kids chased fireflies in the yard with the neighbors.
Max, you ran laps around the yard – making sure I was watching.
“Dad, watch how fast I can run,” you said with each lap. I applauded as you passed each time.
Finally you stopped in front of me, pausing to catch your breath. It was dark and your small face was covered in dirt from an entire day of play.
“Dad, come run with me.”
“I’m tired, Max. Can Daddy sit and watch you?”
“Come run with me,” you repeated. The freedom of running as fast as you can in the dark setting you free. And I think you wanted me to feel it too.
“Come run with me,” again. “Come run with me.”
So we ran down the sidewalk together. You taking the lead – breathing heavily as I followed behind.
I love you,
Mon: lifted weights
Tues: Swam 1900
Wed: Ran 6 miles / Rode 25 miles
Thurs: Ran 10 miles
Sat: Ran 3 miles
Sun: Rode 2 hours / ran 2 miles BRICK