Running alone is one my favorite things to do. Unlike some runners, but much like most long distance runners, I'm utterly content to pad along without companionship and without earbuds, whether its a few miles or a few hours.
But over the past couple years, I have come to appreciate running with others. My brother and I run together, often on epic jaunts through the hills, pushing each other up and down the hills, a quiet understanding that while we're not quite racing, we're just jogging either. Maura and I train together on long runs when possible, and its on these quiet Saturday mornings where we work out the troubles of our lives and plan for the future. We suffer together, and its wonderful.
My sister Kat, 10 years my junior, was in town today to watch the America's Cup races. She and I have spent little, but increasingly high quality time together of late. She has spent more time at our new house than any of my family members, crashing on the couch on several occasions.
Not an avid runner, but in plenty good shape, Kat agreed to join me for an afternoon run. I dragged her up the Kansas Street hill, down through the flats, out to the water and up 3rd Street. We stopped so she could compose herself passing in front of the where some of the Kiwi sailors live, continuing on past team Oracle HQ. Not a fan of hills, we returned on Cesar Chavez, where if you like finishing a run uphill and into the wind, you couldn't be happier (she wasn't).
It only took 45 minutes, and we didn't talk the whole time, but its as quality an hour with a sibling you don't see much as you can ask for.