My wife likes to call me “a streaker,” when she jokingly describes my running obsession to others. She’s thinking the Ray Stevens song, while others envision Forrest Gump. (See Post #188). I do not run naked or look like Tom Hanks. I’m a proud lifetime member of the United States Running Streak Association, Inc. (USRSA). Today I’m celebrating consecutive Day # 4,300 of “The Streak” that started December 29, 2008. I never envisioned it lasting this long, but now I can’t imagine existing without it. It’s part of my daily Groundhog Day-like routine that can be summarized as follows:
Sleep…read…exercise…walk dog….RUN…write… shower….lunch….watch…nap…wine….walk dog… dinner….watch….walk dog…read…sleep…repeat.
It’s a pretty boring daily itinerary that would ordinarily be pleasantly interrupted by traveling the world. Not this year! I could be seeing the Pyramids of Egypt this week rather than the streets of Portland, Oregon. Maybe it will happen some other year of my life that alarmingly grows shorter every day! It’s fortunate that I have “The Streak” to get me out of the house and keep the Covid pounds off. It keeps me healthy, happy, and active.
This morning my run took me back to high school, with memories of my best friend Tim. It’s his birthday today, but unfortunately we haven’t talked in years. This separation was due to my second marriage and the miles between us. In school, we were inseparable and this extended into early adulthood. Our sons grew up together and our wives became friends. It’s all a distant memory, along with those early mornings when he would throw rocks at my bedroom window to encourage me to join him on a run. He was a runner long before I ever started, training for cross-country, track, and wrestling. I tried my best to ignore the tapping sounds on my windows, but he would persist. I can’t remember how many times I would actually get up – probably not many – I hated it!
Well, here I am in the present, hearing those stones every single morning as a wake-up call to do my daily duty. I’m no longer 16, but rather 69, and today so is he. Well over 50 years of friendship have passed by – 41 years since I ran my first Marathon in Detroit. Despite his inspiration, I didn’t really start running seriously until my late twenties in an effort to lose some weight. I never really ever liked doing it, but it was and still is the most convenient way to exercise. No gym membership is necessary, only a pair of shoes. I now lace them up every single morning without fail, and take that first step before I talk myself out of it. Most of the time I still hate it. Only when I finally cross the imaginary finish line every morning do I appreciate its value in my life. It’s the life of a “streaker” like me.
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