When two loves collide, I believe it is a match made in heaven…….and I think this moment has been 40 years in the making.
The temp on the digital sign read 101 as we pulled into town from a day of driving. And even though nothing about this seemed good for a run, I am in Montana and is there really not a good time to run?
So I slipped out of the car and into some shoes.
A run out to the farm is one of my favorite routes while back home. I take every chance I get. Every collected moment and view of this run tells the stories of the miles of my life.
I begin by running the street that I walked for the years of my elementary days. Each corner brings back a memory of friends, stories, fights, tears, getting asked out, breaking up, laughing, but probably most importantly – growing up innocently.
As I leave the city limits I pass where we said goodbye to our friend Justin. I remember that cold day as if it was just this past winter. My adult mind knows he is at peace but my earthly heart breaks for all the life he missed living. I smile through watering eyes every time I pass by. I no longer mourn, I do though get washed over with happy memories of his good spirit. I continue on and even in the stifling, lip cracking heat I’m trying to suck in, I’m grateful for the chance to move my own body, to sweat, to hate what I am loving doing……I’ve been reminded that we never know when our current chance is our last chance.
…..and if this shadeless route wasn’t merciless enough I now begin to climb the climb up out of the valley the town quietly hides in……..I try to find a different gear but today I’m just lucky to keep moving up and forward. The winding ascent keeps the top just out of sight until I am almost ready to stop and walk……..I will myself to not stop, to appreciate the can inside of me and then there I was; I had made it to the top.
One last open stretch of road lined by wheat fields being cut by local farmers is next on the route.
I go speeding down this open straight stretch because it feels good. The wheat fields that have yet to be harvested blow in the heated breeze – the ocean waves of the west that I part with my running and my father combines.
And then there it was, the view of all views, 40 years in the making. Two people with similar roots yet very different branches grew in a way that allowed them both to be at exactly the same place in the same time both doing exactly what they love.
Along a very purposeful path whom we arrived at living very different lives, two unlikely loves come to share the same space, collecting the same moment, both looking out in love. Dad from the cab of his combine, me from the souls of my shoes…….dad coming down the field, sitting proudly in the cab of his combine, harvesting his nurtured to Montana-golden-perfection-wheat. Me, harvesting this moment.
I’m so grateful for a life lived creating routes and running paths that have led me to exactly……….now.
Groovy Girls Go……..For the Harvest of Being Exactly Where I’m Suppose to Be