I got home from work with plenty of light remaining for a good run. I wanted to head up to the gun club with the Garmin to see the actual distance covered last week. I pulled on my second shirt, tights and gloves, all ready to leave when Anna noticed. Sitting around in her undies after a nap, she announced "I'm going on a run." Sometimes I'm too soft a touch. 10 minutes later, I had her dressed in the right clothes, wearing the correct socks with the writing facing in the correct direction, with her "running shoes" tied. Even though she would be riding in style, it mattered to her which shoes she wore. I warned her it would be cold. She was undeterred. Channeling Anna's stubbornness, I stuck with my hillside trail plan. Up the hill we ran.
Dad, why are you going so slow? Dad, why are we walking? This isn't very fast. Are we going to the mountains? How come there are no people up here? Why are there no cars? Are we going to see a snake? Why is it so quiet? I hear a river. I want to see the river. Did we go camping up here? Is a creek and a river the same thing? Where are those guys going? This is where we went camping. Dad, go faster. This is bumpy. That's a big puddle. Ooh, that one is huge. That water is so dirty. Why are there no houses? Is that poop in the trail? Who pooped in the trail? A horse? There are horses up here? I don't see any horses. I need to go potty really a lot. Is there a toilet up here? Are we lost? Dad, you are dumb. Now we are lost.
"Maybe taking Anna wasn't such a good idea." The thought crossed my mind two miles from home on the shoreline trail. She hadn't stopped talking the entire run, and now she said she needed to go potty real bad. And oh yeah, the front wheel had just fallen off the jogging stroller. Sure enough, the rocky terrain had sheared the axle pin. There was no way to fix it with a stick or rock. First things first, I helped her pee on a rock. We wiped with a blanket that was keeping her warm in the stroller. She thought it was so funny to pretend a rock was a toilet. She really did need to pee a lot.
I picked up the broken pieces of the wheel and we walked down the steepest section. 2 miles at a 3 year old walking pace in the windy, snowy cold wasn't going to cut it. I put her back in the stroller, and ran with her rickshaw style. When we came to the steep descents, I put the stroller behind me, so she was riding backward. I figured it would be better than eating it with no front wheel.
Why am I backwards Dad? I can't see. This isn't a fun run. I don't like being backward. Can you see where you are going? Are we almost home? My hands are cold. I peed on a rock. Why are there houses again? What is that girl doing? Does that dog have 3 legs? We aren't lost. Is this a forest? Here's our house.
Finally we got down, 4.3 miles. What a crappy run. I took her inside, left the stroller on the front lawn, and went for 2.5 more miles. Ah. No stroller to push. Out and back flat, just to finish strong, and salvage something from this memorable outing. | 