Finding Momentum

I miss run­ning bare­foot — there was some­thing about run­ning with the spring in your step, push­ing gin­gerly against the grass, feel­ing the strength of the stride move through your legs and through your toes that made you feel pow­er­ful, or free, or wild. When I first started early on, I always felt sore and achy at the bot­tom of my foot, like pin­pricks lived there. We’d joke that run­ning the lake bare­foot was safe–so long as you didn’t step on the nee­dles. A few times I felt a sharp pain and swore I did step on one… only to find out that I was fine. But as the cal­luses built, your stride adjusted and you would feel safer, and the stones wouldn’t cut you any­more and you’d run a lit­tle faster, lean­ing into the slic­ing chill, ignor­ing the numb­ness of run­ning on wet grass on the north end of the lake and run home in dark­ness against the dot­ted glow of Lake Merritt’s necklace.

I’ve had the thought where I wished I could have been more wild when I was younger. Maybe it’d be kind of cool to grow up and live in some remote town in the for­est. I’d like to run freely in the dirt and swim in a few lakes. I would have liked to learn how to wres­tle and got­ten in fights and build forts and bruise a few more knees and kiss a few more girls. I’d like to have known the strength in my back and courage in my heart.  I remem­ber always being fas­ci­nated with the pro­tag­o­nist in My Side of the Moun­tain — the idea of this boy liv­ing in the woods fend­ing for him­self, scav­eng­ing berries and tan­ning leather and hunt­ing for veni­son (and tend­ing to his own pet fal­con — now that was frickin cool).

A mem­ory circa 1998: my fam­ily is ski­ing at Yosemite and I’m tired. I ask my Dad if I can go back by myself — the shut­tle bus will be an hour ride down to the Val­ley floor. I must have been twelve, max. It is snow­ing heav­ily. He hands me the keys tells me to go ahead, and I make that ride back down myself. That day I feel like I’ve crossed a threshold.

These days there are places in my life where I can say — I’m going to be wild. I’m going to fight for this, or I’m going to fig­ure this out. I’m going to do this because as a grown man, I still want to run, and explore, and give it a good try.