Struggling Well With Life

I am looking forward to the Turkey Trot - a race on Thanksgiving morning. I have run this race for the past 15 plus years. A great way to start the day, and set the stage for some well deserved eating. On the morning of the race I have always left the house alone, while the girls stuff their faces with homemade cinnamon rolls. Seeing other dads run with their kids made me long for one of my girls to get off their keister and give it the ole college try. This year, I may get my wish. Megan asked me to run with her last week and get her ready for the big day. She asked me to take her on a 2 mile run, but I knew she had more in her than that. So, I decided to push her a bit. Red faced, but not out of breath, she ran 3.6, which was the first time she ran more than a mile - ever. Mad at me, but proud of herself, she discovered a well of reserve in herself she did not know she had. We ran 3.6 again this week, and she sprinted home - leaving me in the dust. My Father has been pushing me beyond myself, and I am discovering a strength that I did not know I had, a strength that is not my own.