They say running a marathon is an experience that’s difficult to put into words.
I wouldn’t know about that. Because, I have never run.
However, I know how it feels to chase a marathoner.
I know how to meet him every few miles.
I know how much of navigating around roadblocks is required.
I know how it feels to hear thumping feet.
I know how it feels to cheer for strangers.
I know how my spirit soars as I watch the power of the human spirit from the sidelines.
I know how my heart skips a beat when I see him.
I know how tired he must be.
I know how he will always start sprinting when he sees me.
I know he will raise his hand to hi-fi my outreached hand.
I know he will be more proud of me (than I am of him) because I got there to cheer for him at almost every mile.
It is quite a experience. Chasing a marathoner is an experience that’s difficult to put into words.
The boys and I have been chasing runners at Primos Run since 7am today.
If an asteroid ever does hit our earth, I’ll survive.
In the last decade, I have been in the “DUCK MOM, it is coming right at you!!” boot camp (with both indoor and outdoor training) held by 2 stalwarts.
I have ducked every damn thing possible – baseball bats, cricket bats, basket balls, soccer balls, books, pillows…even shoes.
What is that asteroid going to do to me?
Do you have school aged kids?
Do you know how all hell breaks loss every morning?
Today morning, when everyone at home was getting ready in a hurry, here is my Nero (oops, meant hero) fiddling (oops, meant reading).
I now understand what my mom meant when she said “Just wait. Life will come a full circle”.
Thank you to my dear friend Anu Singh for sharing this beautiful poem with me.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
—- Poem written by Lebanese-born American artist, philosopher and writer Khalil Gibran.