Yesterday, Richard ran and finished his third marathon. He’s now run marathons in Pittsburgh, Jacksonville, and San Antonio.
This is all kind of strange to me, because I am not a runner. In fact, I’m more of an ambler. I not only possess no meaningful athletic talent, I possess no meaningful athletic inclination, either. I probably couldn’t run a half mile without collapsing by the side of the road, and Kish isn’t exactly out dashing around Columbus, either.
So how in the world did we end up with a son who has the determination and perseverance and stamina to run more than 26 miles at a pop — and train for it to boot? I frankly admit that I am awed at what Richard is doing.
So forgive me if I take a minute to say that I’m proud of my son, the marathoner. Way to go, Richard!