Father's Day Breakfast

The last mile felt good. My legs and my lungs finally seemed to be working together, and it actually felt possible to run fast. Fast is a relative term, of course, but it felt fast to me. It's been a long time since I felt fast.

Will I stop at the end of the dirt trail? I asked myself. Will I stop at the overpass column? Will I stop at the concrete circle? It's a little game I play with myself to keep me running until the end.

I decided to run to the concrete circle. When I got there, Ben was sitting in the stretching area waiting and smiling. I winked at him and headed to the drinking fountain and the shower, where I dowsed my head and my shoes that were covered in trail dirt. Then I sat down next to him.

Have a little trouble-bubble? he asked, implying that he expected me earlier.

No, I said. I'm just slow.

Oh.

I took another swig of the Gatorade that he had fetched from the car.

We sat for a while, he and I, watching the runners come and go. The serious runners were gone by now, but there were plenty of others. We enjoyed the cool breeze that periodically came up the hill from the lake.

I would have sat there longer, but Ben began to agitate for breakfast. So we walked up the hill past the car, across Lake Austin Boulevard and put our names on the list for breakfast at Magnolia Cafe. And although the list was shockingly long, before you know it we had a booth by the window and were eating eggs and sausage and potatoes and...

Oh what a way to have breakfast on Father's Day.

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