The week preceding my "vacation" (the first four days I drove across three states with three girls by myself - so, yes I deserve to put both hands in the air and put quotations on vacation) I ran fifty miles in five days. In other words for five days, I ran ten miles every morning.
The clothes, food and sanity were packed in the car when I set out for my last ten mile stretch on the bike path. Because it was a thousand degrees by 5:30 (I already admitted that my sanity was in the car and clearly not in my mind), I gulped water from the water fountain like a drowning fish.
A man next to me chuckled between blowing puffs on his cigarette. I ignored him while he waddled his overweight body in circles around the green bench parked by the fountain. I wiped my face and neck (I'm not a pretty drinker when I'm parched) and gave a nod before shoving my earphones back in place. Just as I flicked the music back on, I see the man shake his head and mumble, "Don't you know running is bad for your body?"
I bit the inside of my cheek and ran an extra loop to avoid seeing my unsolicited doctor on the return trip. I hear more negatives about running, diet soda, and tap water than I care to admit. This frustration brewed and boiled within me the entire two days it took to reach Park City, Utah.
I grew up in a house that bordered walnut orchards. In a county where agriculture reigned. I drank water out of the tap and helped my mother primp her lovely garden. I love to run - I love to feel my heart pound in rhythm to my shoes. It is the most genuine, naked feeling of being alive.
I worried about my children and their relationship with the natural world around them, and in them. With a spring in my step, I marched my three little girls on a hike throughout Park City.
We discovered lush trails, historic buildings, and hiked to my heart's content...
Or maybe I nearly killed my kids with a three hour hike on their "vacation."