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D.R.: Running with the son

Don Rogers

I am the acolyte and my son the master these days.

This is the bright side of our current family car shortage. The kid’s car died for good and so while he’s home from college for the summer I’m driving him to work Monday through Thursday and picking him up afterward, at 6 p.m.

If you run or followed the Battle Mountain High School cross country team in the not-so-distant past, you might recognize him by his absurdly long hair. He’s the one with the lion’s mane, the copper-colored curls running down his back.



He sells athletic shoes at the Avon Sports Authority these days, and also most keep to a training schedule his cross country coach at Fort Lewis College in Durango has set for him and the rest of the team.

So, those four days I pick him up from work, we’re going running. We just started last week, but already I feel stronger in my noonball basketball games.

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No, I can’t run WITH the kid. Are you kidding? Him running with me would be like me running with him when he was, oh, around 10. Actually he would run with me sometimes and more often ride his bike while I ran.

We go to a trailhead, say, East Lake Creek. He tells me how far to run out; 15 minutes or 20 minutes right now. Then turn around and come back. Then he starts up the hill and vanishes in all of about 10 seconds.

I run my run, at my pace. He goes at his. We meet at just about the same time back at the trailhead.

And then we talk running. He tells me in essence: “Good Dad,” just as I encouraged him in baseball and basketball when he was a boy. He’s a great coach, mixing tips for better form and mental approach with encouragement.

The conversation ranges free and easy over the drive home. I reflect he’s grown already into a pretty cool guy, fun to be around, thoughtful about issues and life, great sense of humor.

Don’t tell him this, but I’m hoping that we don’t replace his car for awhile yet. This is too much fun. I might even get in real shape.


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