Vacation

I recently returned from five days at my parents’ home in El Paso. It’s the first time I’ve been home in over three years, and the first time since December of 2006 that I’ve been here long enough to look around. My most recent visit was in 2011 and lasted not quite 48 hours. It was over before it really started.

            So I had time to look around and see what’s new. The locals never notice the incremental changes, but I sure paid attention to what’s different as far as how the old neighborhood looks. I couldn’t go anywhere without remembering what used to be on this street corner, or how the folks who lived here used to have an awesome Christmas display that seemed to grow every year.

            I also went outside to run for the first time. In 2011 I ran a five on the treadmill at the hotel, but it’s March and it’s perfect weather, so I laced up my Saucony Ride 3 shoes for three trips around the old joint.

            The first thing I realized is how compact it is. Walking to the park or to school seemed so far away, but it’s just a half-mile to my old high school and .6 to the adjoining elementary school I attended. I ran down streets where old friends lived, to the park where I played youth baseball, to my old junior high (it’s a middle school now), and just all over the place. I felt like I was so far away from base camp, yet my watch didn’t agree with that.

            One thing I’ll remember is running around the 400-meter track at the high school stadium, which buts right against my old elementary school (which also felt tiny). The playing surface is now fieldturf and the rickety-crickety old scoreboard has been replaced a few times over the years, and the stadium itself could tell a few stories. But for PE class as an eight-year old, we’d head over to the track for the dreaded mile run. I’d sprint out over the first 100 and spend the rest of the time mostly walking, and ending with a time north of 12 minutes. I think I even donated some flesh from both my elbows to that track, which was not yet recycled rubber in the late 1970s. The traction was not as good. I wouldn’t know what to call it, but concrete-like seems appropriate.

            I also ran some on that track after I graduated from high school, as I tried to get in shape for the physical rigors of military life. It went only slightly better than when I was a youth.

            This is some of what I brought to the track on a sun-splashed late morning. I had forgotten how gorgeous March in El Paso could be. The track coaches were nice enough to let me get my run in on the outside lanes. I doubt the kids paid any mind to the old, slow guy in the headband. I ran three laps and headed back out into the surrounding neighborhoods, not wanting to spend too much time remembering what it was like to be a kid. But it sure was a perfect day.

            I also ran with this right in my face:

 

This is what it looks like outside my front door. Never realized how much I miss it.

             Whenever I ran out of numbers for my brain to crunch, I would look up to see the Franklin Mountains staring right back at me. It’s always funny the things you miss—I saw them as I walked outside every morning for school, but didn’t really notice them. Now I miss them, as I’ve lived away from home for 25 years. It sure was great to have them as company. I saw and reminisced a lot more by running through the old hood than I would have by driving. It was great.

            Three runs, 17 miles at 3900 feet of elevation. Loved every minute of it.