Napo 14: My Dad



Every weekend, you’d wake early,

Make sure there was coffee in the pot

And something sweet on the table

Before lacing up your shoes

And heading out to the open road.


Where were you running, dad?

I’d wonder that, watching you

From my bedroom window,

Your spider legs carrying you

Down the street, then out of my sight.

When you’d return, hour later,

Drenched in sweat and bringing

The scent of the road and the sunshine

With you, the day would begin.


Dad, now my own legs, thin and long

In a pair of compression tights

Carry me miles and miles and miles.

And I know where I’m running—

In your footprints, your shadow,

Your sunshine. Some mornings,

We are blessed to run together,

Side by side, counting miles

And laughing at ourselves,

The ridiculousness of this endeavor,

To count the miles these feet

Have traveled. I know I’m your daughter,

Always running, always moving.