Whenever I go running, Robbie begs to go with me. It doesn’t matter if I’m going to the gym to hit the treadmill or running outside in the rain. He always wants to go. Usually (always) I just want to get my run over with, and, in all honesty, I’m worried about improving my times a little (or at least staying consistent). But yesterday morning, Robbie and I made a plan. We were going running. Together.
I got home late yesterday, and I expected Robbie to have found something else to do. He hadn’t. As soon as I got home, he climbed off Justin’s lap and told me he had to change into his running clothes. Five minutes later, we were ready: Robbie, Barkley, and me. Robbie decided he wanted to run up to the pond to see the ducks, half a mile away. I just hoped we’d make it to the stop sign .2 miles down the street.
The run started out, well, fun. We talked about Robbie’s day (there was something about a pirate and chasing his friend with a map). Robbie encouraged Barkley (“Come on, Bark! You’re doing great!”). We made it just past the stop sign when Robbie wiped out – full-on crash into the sidewalk. It was then that we discovered his shoes were on the wrong feet. A quick switch of the shoes, and we were off. We had just crossed the street when Robbie and I got tripped up on a branch in the middle of the sidewalk. I managed to recover and not hit the ground. Robbie didn’t fare quite as well. He scraped up both hands, his lip, and possibly his belly. But he carried on.
I gave Robbie the choice of running back home or running along the pond and back into the neighborhood. He said, “We need to keep runnin’, Mom. We’re really super fast runners. We’re just runnin’ and runnin’.” And we were. He ran along the pond, up a major hill, around a circle, and back down the hill. Eventually, we headed home. We made it 1.4 miles before he asked to walk a little bit and 1.67 miles total. Sure, I’d planned to run three. But this was way better.