One of the Many Reasons, Why I Run

Dad and Sean, Elvis Presley 5K

You know how running can clear your head, and let you see things you had never noticed before? But then all of a sudden, out on the road they become so lucid and simple? Well, I had an amazing revelation like that today while running with my oldest son.  Here it is:  I am short. I am short, and my legs are real short. 

I’ve suspected this for some time now.  For instance my favorite place to buy slacks is Lands End, because I can order them online and get the 27 ¼” inseam that I can’t seem to find at any of the stores at the mall.  When I buy running shorts, the 5” or even 3” inseam fit me fine; nothing like the NBA sized shorts I have to choose from in most other styles.  Thankfully the rumpled-around-the-ankle jeans look has been around for sometime, so I’ve been quite fashionable in that respect.  Last week I was at my mother-in-law’s house, and while sitting on her slightly elevated couch, my feet couldn’t touch the floor.  I felt like it was just about time to head off to kindergarten. These things seemed to indicate some kind of height deficit, but nothing really I could put my finger on.

But this morning while running with my son, the nature of my short stature slapped me in the face like the odor from a pair of old running shoes, left in a gym bag for weeks at a time.  Even though he is 6’5”, a full 10 inches taller than me, I noticed for the first time this morning his foot strikes didn’t quite coincide with mine.  So, I asked him to count his right foot strikes, while I silently counted mine while timing us both.  After 30 seconds I asked his count: 32.  Mine was 40. And of course you have to double that, for the two feet we both have, his again significantly larger, and then double it again for a full minute.  The grand totals: 128 for him, 160 for me. For every minute we run, I have to take an additional 32 steps to cover the same ground.  We were running at a pace of 11 minute miles, (my pace not his…he was just hanging back with me) so I was taking an extra 352 steps per mile. Over the course of a marathon, that would be over 9,000 additional steps for me to cover the same distance vs. my son… 

All of a sudden I feel like the Tim Conway character, Dorf.  For me to do the same amount of steps that he does to finish a marathon, 26.2 miles, I would only have to run 20.96 miles.  Or another way to look at it, for him to the same amount of steps as it take for me to finish a marathon, he would run 32.75 miles.

But then I am reminded, that it was a beautiful clear cool morning.  I had two good, albeit short, legs to move me along the pavement, with all the grace and semi-speed I could muster.   And best of all,  I had the chance to talk about life and love and silly stuff for an hour with my young adult son, (who for some unknown reason still likes to hang out with me); he took the time to come over and waddle along with his short stepping, goofy dad.  I realized that short stepping is not the worst thing in the world.  And if I have to run harder and longer, just to keep up, well, that’s what the training is for. And as long as God gives me the breath to power the heart and lungs to push the blood and oxygen through the muscles…(hey for me it doesn’t have that far to travel…an advantage!) I’ll be there enjoying every minute of it. Those are the moments that make running the joyful and life giving activity that I love so much.