germany

a time of cotton t shirts, soccer practice, blue oyster kult and being an officers kid in a foreign land. we lived off base because my mother would have none of being trapped behind a military gate guarded by machine guns and sand bags. a wall separate communism and freedom only 150 klicks from where i lived. my dad had little time to spend at home. one thing he did often was come home and run the old country roads outside of our little german town. if i wanted to hang out with him, i had to run as well. this was how it started. not as "exercise" but a chance to spend some time with my father and really try to earn a little notice. it was on these runs that my dad first treated me as someone other than his son. talking about running and the history of the german country side we ran through was his chance to teach me as someone other than his child. it was like he was narrating. he wasn't fast, but his endurance was never a question.

we had one tv channel available that broadcast in english. armed force network (afn). one night my dad wakes me up around 1 am and brings me into the living room. the tv is on and he has popped popcorn. "son, this is the boston marathon". it was there while watching greg meyer run away from everyone that i learned the story of phidipiddes and the battle of marathon. 10 year olds don't get to share much time like this, so it was special. it was also the first time i can remember ever being up past midnight. (in a household where 20:30 sharp was bedtime for kids every night, this was a big deal. it was like getting away with something, with permission from the general himself. ) i grew up, grew rebellious. he grew more stern. the runs together stopped.

i've run boston before. this year held strong meaning for me. emotions are very strong right now as i look back and remember...