I’ve been given some pretty incredible presents over my almost 40 years of living.
From the one-of-a-kind drawings and creations my kids have made for Father’s Day to big ticket items like my kayak or experiences such as chocolate tasting school (Yes, there’s such a thing and it’s pretty geeked-out fun!) to tiny gestures of Belgian chocolates straight from Ypres, I have loved and valued each present I have received.
I recognise the time and thought and energy it took someone to put just the right book in my hands or pick out the exact type and size of underwear I love.
It’s hard to find the right thing to give someone, isn’t it? What to give for a wedding shower or the second born child or a house-warming present or 12th wedding anniversary doesn’t always seem easy or obvious.
Finding the right gift for myself, though, is simple.
That time I ran with my sister on the muggiest of mornings in August in Myrtle Beach when we felt like spewing chunks because the air was so thick, that was a gift. Getting out for a run in the shadow of the Niagara escarpment with my dad is a gift. So, too were each run around Gaff Point I’ve done with my son and the local Muffin Run in Lunenburg we ran as a family last year. Those were perfect gifts.
The opportunity, the privilege, to run astride the waters of the Atlantic is a gift. To explore the history of this town, the cultural landscape surrounding Lunenburg in the early morning hours when Mary is out for her daily walk in her fluorescent crossing guard vest, and the neighbour across the street is taking his gimpy old lab out for air, and the horses at the Trot ‘n Time stables peak their heads out the open doors to watch the deer stand, frozen, stalk-still in the pasture, and when the lobster boats head out to work at sea with their bazillion candle-watt lights, is a gift.
I have received so much in my life as presents. Yet to be able to find the time for running, to afford the time to run, and to have the ability to run are the gifts I most often, and most humbly, cherish.