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Taking on the Run

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Left to right: Christopher and Nico

February 12th, 2013



My kids run. It's all they like to do. Whether they are at the store, on the street, or in 
the house, stationary position, is not in their vocabulary. It doesn't matter where they are, they just go, go, go. The energizer bunny has nothing on them. And it's not because we're any where fun, that is chocked full of activities. Nope, it’s like running is ingrained in their DNA. And the hard and perplexing part is, I'm missing that gene, because I hate running. And unless I'm at the gym or chasing a bad guy who just committed a crime, I don't even think about running. Hell, I don't even want to power walk. 

My kids run so much they have better pecs then I do. I wish I had these kids in my 20's because my body would be ripped with muscles bulging through my shirt.

I can’t contain their energy, I can only hope to keep up with them, but it’s easy for them because they have youth on their side. The only advantage I have on my boys is my height, which allows me a wider gate and quicker closing distance. One day maybe they will learn to love to walk or maybe learn to stop and smell the roses, because they're so powerful, I dread thinking about the power that will come with age that I have yet to see. And I’m talking when they turn eight or nine!

My voice goes hoarse yelling at them to, “come back” or “Hey, slow down!”  My voice is the only line of defense against their speed. I do have to admit, that I imagine the two of them on some sort of playing field with a ball eluding defenders between the lines of some organized sport, but damn it I'm not a defensive lineman chasing them down, I'm dad!

I conserve as much energy as I can in case I have to place my body into over drive, and like a super charged engine, sprint as fast as I can to catch them with my one last burst of speed, as if we were all in the fourth and final turn at the Daytona 500. 

Maybe they get a thrill of running from the law, knowing full well dads a cop. It's their version 
of cops and robbers. But if this was the case I'd just place them in handcuffs and plant their butts down on the ground. But of course, I kid. I'd never handcuff my own kids. I'd just continue with my stern warnings. Which does seem to be working, but only when they are just about tired of running.


I compare trying to catch my kids to the fish we caught just the other day when I took my boys fishing for the first time. Quick, slippery and elusive.  I could attach my kids with a hook from my rod n’ reel if they get too far from my grasp and reel them in back towards me, but obviously, that won’t work, my boys are too cunning to allow me to quickly cast a line from my fishing pole to bring them in as if they were the catch of the day. And legally, I do not think I can use a hook, but its fun to think of ways to capture them since at times, I can't when we are on the run.

Of course, I do exaggerate a little; my boys do listen, most of the time. However, they are toddlers and well; they have a mind of their own. At least for now, I can have a say in how far they can go in their run away antics. But eventually they'll be teenagers and have a much stronger mind of their own, which will lead them to leaving the house with their friends, because dad's so uncool.
So run boys. Run to your hearts content and of course I will chase you until I have you in my arms. And I will enjoy it, because as life goes on and we get older I'll long for the days of our youth and wish that you were in my arms forever.








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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.


Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.

The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto ©  is also a Registered Copyright with the Office of the Registers, United States of America, TX 7-611-138

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