Gift this book and let your loved ones discover the profound layers of a runner's journey. Packed with awe-inspiring accounts, personal anecdotes, and touching narratives, readers will traverse diverse landscapes-both external and of the soul. From serene nature trails to the chaotic bustle of city marathons, the stories encompass the beauty, challenges, and revelations of the sport.
102 Aspects of the Run
$29.99Experience a Runner's Soul: A Raw Journey Beyond the Tracks. Perfect Gift for Every Runner and Those Who Love Them. Buy Now!
A Sample From My Book
102 Aspects Of The Run: #18 Footsteps
I thought I heard my dad’s footsteps in the house last night. He died 20 years ago and was never in our house. There was a way his feet sounded when he walked that was distinctive. I can't describe it; it was just him. There was no one upstairs, and for that second, when I heard his footsteps, I was a child again and thought, "Oh, Dad is upstairs."
The phantom footsteps made me think about footsteps during a run. There is the way our footsteps land when we are running well; rhythmic and steady, and there is a way they land when we are struggling; heavy slaps or a little shuffle. The same is true for our running companions; if we run with them often, we know their foot strikes.
Today a runner glided up from behind while I was running on a trail in the woods. I hardly heard him, and then he passed me, his feet steady, big calves propelling him down the trail. I wished I could run like him as he disappeared around a bend.
Dogs know their owner's footsteps as well. Sometimes if I am packing for a trip, our dog Marley grows alarmed and anxious because my footsteps are different from usual. I suspect they betray my anxiety about packing and traveling.
Our footsteps land and die away, land and die away, disappearing as soon as they land. I was thinking about footsteps today on my run and realized how little attention I pay to them and how my mind is often down the trail, thinking about when I will reach the next mile or drink or eat. If I can gather my mind and concentrate on my footsteps, I am where my feet are, flowing in a moving zen, content with each footstep.