The Best Motivation. Ever.

Tonight I went for a run before dinner. I left some yummy homemade marinara and meatballs warm on the stove and set out for a quick jog as soon as hubby came home, thinking about the meal that I was earning. . . 

What a great night for a run. It was warm enough for shorts and a tank yet cool enough to be comfortable. And running is one of the times I appreciate California--it's easier to run in the low humidity.  I sorted out my thoughts and my day, feeling a bit more relaxed and ready for the evening. I think I'm ready to add a mile or two to my usual course, so I was feeling good already. And then, I made the turn into our neighborhood and I beheld the most beloved sight. (I recreated it for you as soon as I got home and grabbed my camera):

My Meg. On her bike, in her sparkly blue dress-up dress and funny bunny helmet, ringing her little bell in greeting. She was waiting there for me and when she saw me she ditched the bike (oh, my husband was with her, just want to make sure you knew that--for safety sake!) and ran with me. We ran a few laps together around the grassy park across from our house before she wiped out, and daddy had to help her home with the bike!

Just the look on her face when she first caught sight of me was priceless. She was so happy to see me and she was proud of me, for finishing my run! I realize that I usually run when she is either asleep or at pre-school, so this was a big deal for her!

My dad was an amazing runner when I was growing up. He ran marathons and ultra-marathons, including 100-mile races in the mountain! I grew up in awe of his physical capacity,  watching him train for and accomplish seemingly-impossible goals. I witnessed most of these accomplishments first hand and remember waiting and waiting for him at various check points and finish lines, standing on my toe-tips, peering through crowds, watching for his red hat to appear. And then it would appear and I knew it was him because I'd know that stride half a mile away, and I would run out to meet him. Well, when I was younger. As soon as I hit my teen years I was way to cool for running across the finish lines with dad. But he probably still doesn't know that he inspired me so much every single time he crossed one of those lines. 50 miles. 100 miles. And the the easy little 26.2 milers. I cry at weddings and graduations, just hearing the music gets me going. And I cried at so many of dad's finish lines, and I don't think he ever even knew--I had Ray Bans. The point is, I was proud of my dad, and still am.

Tonight, Meg was proud of me. I ran 3 miles. I want to keep making her proud, and I want to be an inspiration to her, not only to exercise but to reach her fullest potential in all she does. I have some work to do on that last part, but I'm going to bed tonight feeling inspired.

I love you, dad. And I love you, Meg. Thanks for running with me tonight, baby.