January - Out with the Old - In with the New
January heralds a new year, new resolutions and a new outlook. I tossed the wreath and stashed the holiday decorations with ease. I went through all of the holiday cardsone more time before tossing them out. Some of the cards are from people I only hear from during December. Our lives the other 11 months don’t seem to get on the radar. I don’t get that. Truth is it feels to me that the cards are a perfunctory action. Sometimes long letters are attached. Why? A once a year hello feels more like a “have to” than a “want to.” It is like flossing once a year before visiting the dentist. Flossing regularly, staying in touch regularly I think matter. Those once a year cards are easy to recycle.
My old running shoes too need to go. I am a careful aging runner. I know how important good running shoes are. I watch my mileage and strap on new shoes every 300 miles. This pair, though tired, is difficult to discard. These shoes have been regulars for three months. They are predictable, reliable and travel well. These shoes have been to Morocco and Tunisia in December. They accompanied me on my birthday in Marrakech which means Running Away in Arabic. Isnʼt that fun? Marrakech is known as the city of roses. My birthday morning I ran the main avenue that is lined with roses wishing everyone a “Bonjour!” I have sand from the Sahara in my shoes. These shoes were with me when I loped through cities that were built before Christ was born. Rarely did I see runners and certainly not women. The gate keepers at the hotels would smile, shake their heads and watch as my flashlight and I disappeared down the road. I often would run to town liking to watch the store keepers prepare for the day. I like watching a city wake up. My runs are “peeping Ada” through the neighborhood. Other days I would greet the day on an empty road watching the sun rise over the desert, barely able to breathe because of the beauty - the quiet and wonder.
Both Morocco and Tunisia are Muslim countries with long histories and traditions. Coffee is usually served at the table in heated pitchers with accompanying heated milk. After every morning run, I would wander into the dining area, sweaty and smiling. In my best Arabic I thanked well dressed waiters as I took two cups of coffee, one with milk, and headed for the hotel room. The waiters dressed in pressed shirts and pants would look curiously at the panting woman who kept smiling and saying “Bonjour.” More often than not, my running shoes have been my constant companion on many adventures. I love the stories that are part of the dirt, the sand, and worn soles of these shoes. I guess that is why some holiday cards are easy to throw away. They too are notabout shared stories. They might as well be addressed to occupant.
My old running shoes too need to go. I am a careful aging runner. I know how important good running shoes are. I watch my mileage and strap on new shoes every 300 miles. This pair, though tired, is difficult to discard. These shoes have been regulars for three months. They are predictable, reliable and travel well. These shoes have been to Morocco and Tunisia in December. They accompanied me on my birthday in Marrakech which means Running Away in Arabic. Isnʼt that fun? Marrakech is known as the city of roses. My birthday morning I ran the main avenue that is lined with roses wishing everyone a “Bonjour!” I have sand from the Sahara in my shoes. These shoes were with me when I loped through cities that were built before Christ was born. Rarely did I see runners and certainly not women. The gate keepers at the hotels would smile, shake their heads and watch as my flashlight and I disappeared down the road. I often would run to town liking to watch the store keepers prepare for the day. I like watching a city wake up. My runs are “peeping Ada” through the neighborhood. Other days I would greet the day on an empty road watching the sun rise over the desert, barely able to breathe because of the beauty - the quiet and wonder.
Both Morocco and Tunisia are Muslim countries with long histories and traditions. Coffee is usually served at the table in heated pitchers with accompanying heated milk. After every morning run, I would wander into the dining area, sweaty and smiling. In my best Arabic I thanked well dressed waiters as I took two cups of coffee, one with milk, and headed for the hotel room. The waiters dressed in pressed shirts and pants would look curiously at the panting woman who kept smiling and saying “Bonjour.” More often than not, my running shoes have been my constant companion on many adventures. I love the stories that are part of the dirt, the sand, and worn soles of these shoes. I guess that is why some holiday cards are easy to throw away. They too are notabout shared stories. They might as well be addressed to occupant.
Labels: parent/child relationships life lessons, running shoes
posted by Ada at
12:00 PM
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