The burning in my chest seems different than in the past. The burning in my legs is shocking to me. Confusion and doubt cloud my mind.
It’s only been two laps.
The course I created with my boys can only be described as small. Four corners form a square in the backyard marked by a small orange cone, our big red cooler, a bucket for “Yard Dice” (think Yahtzee on sod), and an orange baseball hat. Two corners rest atop the small incline that is my lawn.
- Sprint up the hill.
- Run backwards across the top.
- Grapevine down the hill.
- Lunges across the bottom.
These spur of the moment workouts always seem like a great idea. The kids are always begging to play with me outside, I DEFINITELY need the exercise, and well, there ya go two birds, one stone.
Plus, remember that scene in “Field of Dreams? Kevin Costner’s character playing catch with his dad? The sun was setting across a beautiful farm. Two men, with a tear in their eye, gulping down the nostalgia of father-son time. It’s simple and beautiful and what we, as fathers, all strive to achieve.
One lap into it and I realize I hate that movie. My son chooses DJ Khaled as our workout playlist, the three year old is falling every ten feet and pouts until someone picks him up and all I can focus on is the amount of gopher tunnels ruining my grass. That and the imminent heart attack I’m seconds away from experiencing. The eight year old’s question-to-my-answer ratio is five to one.
“Dad, can we play football?”
“No- what? We just started! We gotta finish what we start.”
“Will you let me play football for real?”
“Well- (light panting)”
“Mom says no but I really wanna play.
“I’m gonna run around the house fifty times can you time me?”
“Sure but- ” (tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth)
“Dad! Is Batman a good-guy? What’s a vigilante?”
“Kind of…. (pant pant)Well (pant pant)…. I (pant pant)… don’t (pant pant)… reallyknow…”
“Dad! Ben’s crying.”
“Ok (Thank God!)…I should slow down and check on him.”
It doesn’t take long before a football has entered the mix. My sons pass it back and forth as they run, and Benny’s laughter echoes through our empty little neighborhood. I find myself jamming to Mr. Khaled every time I pass the first cone, and the sweat on my ancient tank top spreads like a badge of honor.
I feel great.
A little sweat, a little music, two of my favorite people in the world, and a beautiful outdoor setting.
All it took was a step off my deck.
Owner Spowerks LLC