I’ve been gone from the blog for a couple of weeks. A lot of things have gotten in the way of life. An invasion of germs left 80% of our family under the weather. (LittleMissMouse was the lone survivor). My right side, from hip to ankle, continues to sap my running mojo. And, most sadly, we are witnessing the end of my father-in-law’s struggle with Parkinson’s Disease.
I really want to dedicate this post to him, because I can think of no one who better exemplifies the Wanderlust way. It’s ironic that he began and is ending his life in the same city, since he covered so much ground in his 73 years. From New England boarding schools and Harvard University, he canoed the fjords of Norway, hitch-hiked across the USA as a folk-singer in the 1960s. With his bride and toddler son, he drove to Alaska in 1972, where he staked a claim on 10 acres and built a cabin with his bare hands (and the help of some friends).
Upon returning to Virginia, he rode the running wave, finishing the Richmond Marathon among other races. I’ve been privileged to read the his running journals from the 1970s and 80s, where he logged splits, routes, his heart rate, and philosophies. In 1987 he climbed atop North America with a successful summit of Denali. Shortly after, he journeyed to the base of the Himalayas, hiking in the shadow of Everest.
A trip to Thailand in 2003, a final pilgrimage to the cabin in Alaska in 2005, and a return to Denmark in 2006 were his last voyages. Until now. I know he’ll explore the afterlife, mining it for its secrets and wonders. The song he shared with us all will carry on the wind, falling on our ears when we least expect it, and reminding us that he is still about.
Safe journeys and happy trails, my dear man.