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One balmy evening, my sixteen year old self was angry and went on a mad run around the neighborhood. Twenty odd years later, I ran the same route today. I don’t think I ever ran after that dash until I started running as an adult.

My brother joined me for part of the run and it was nice to chat as we walked/ran. Summer vacations are on for the kids and for a brief while in the morning, I was reminded of my childhood. Some of the roads we ran on didn’t exist then. It was all marshland and we could see the creek in the distance. There used to be a worn path leading to the creek and a whole bunch of us kids would be out at 6 in the morning searching adventure. Our parents never really knew where we used to be and as long as there were a bunch of us together, they were just glad to have us out of their hair for a bit. As a teen, I spent many solitary hours there watching the brilliant sunsets.

It was liberating to run free on the roads that were part of my growing up years. I don’t know when and how the inhibitions of running outside fell off. All that is left is a gratitude for being able to run and the desire to pass it on.

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