Running with Avery

I ran 3 miles with my 13 1/2 year old granddaughter one morning last week. She ran out in the open, all around our neighborhood, with her grandmother - me - and even seemed to enjoy it. We talked about running, used runner's lingo ("what's your tempo?" "ear to pocket while running"), and encouraged each other when we arrived at an especially big hill. Along the route, we rescued a turtle who was crossing the street a little too slow for our liking. We talked of her track coach, my stride, her form, and she brought me up-to-date with the latest news from the city where she lives. For me, this was my agape day - a day of pure love. And then it hit me. Would I have been able to do this with my grandmother?

My grandmother was eccentric, wildly devoted to her family, depressed most of the time, and crazy about me, her only grandchild. She wore corsets, Red Cross shoes, house dresses, and dentures. Grandmom had bad knees & gnarled knuckles, problems she believed were caused by her father whom she reminded us bought beer for himself instead of milk for his daughter. She never forgave him and never passed up an opportunity to remind me that I had a much better father - her only son- than she ever did. She lost her home during the Great Depression. There was no social support system then, no jobs, no money, nor the ubiquitous and ever-present "grief counseling" during times of social stress. Grandmom was 61 when I was 13, two years younger than I am now. I adored her. I went plenty of places with Grandmom - mostly to church, or shopping, or sometimes to a local restaurant on special occasions. But never ever in my wildest fantasy did I ever entertain the idea or desire to run 3 miles with Grandmom. And I would have been mortified to do it.

Times change. We "Boomers" had no intention of living our lives like Grandmom. I don't own a corset or even a girdle (which are now referred to as "spanks" - figure that out). I have all my own teeth, my hair color is the same as it was in high school with a few gray strands here and there. The Baby Boom generation had all the advantages Grandmom didn't. If we're not healthy, for many of us, it's due to our lifestyle, overeating, no activity, or the myriad of behaviors that are slowly killing the Class of '63. I was lucky, I know. My father did buy milk for me. My bones are able to endure distance running. Thanks Grandmom for insisting that I drink my milk.

I ran 3 miles with my granddaughter last week. I wish for every grandparent an experience like this - my agape day with Avery.