From my letter to Gabriel, April 2019 “Where’d you go” – Illenium It’s a song that you have enjoyed listening to with me a lot lately Listening now as I type this. You should listen and see if it brings back any memories. Music has always been a powerful conduit for me. I used to joke back in college that I’d inherited just enough schizophrenia from my dad to be ultra creative but not crazy. I don’t know if its true but ever since I was young – maybe 12 or 13 – I’ve had like a low resolution radio playing under the surface of my consciousness. Like my life has a soundtrack and it’s keeping the voices that haunted my father at bay. You see, music is pattern layered on top of patterns…all of it working in harmony to create a rising and falling – its beautiful and harmonious and synchronous. You can get lost in the patterns and your mind and spirit can open up to movement both inside and out. And if the piece is very good then you can listen to it over and over again and latch onto new rhythms, sounds, and melodies. I personally like picking apart the base frequencies. I know just enough about music to focus intently on one or two patterns and let them resonate. Almost like my brain is trying to grab on to each line of the layered instruments and anticipate and memorize them. This is how life feels to me, actually. So many patterns and rhythms layered on top of themselves. You can look at it from 100 different directions. You can replay the memories over and over again and see something new each time. And in the process you see more and more beauty and synchronicity. It’s all deeply connected, son. You’re a couple months from turning 4 right now and I’ve struggled so hard in the past few months since our move to capture this time in our lives in my heart. I took you and Bennet for a walk yesterday. He was content in the stroller and you were rambunctious as ever. I love your energy. And your run form is Olympic level. Effortless, bouncy, with little wasted motion. AND YOU’RE ONLY 3. Amazing. To a master trainer, there is a beauty to behold in that alone. But when its your son, in blossoming youth trotting ahead of you – jumping in puddles – laughing – breaking into dance to the song coming from the cupholder we were using as the echo chamber for the smartphone… Magical, really. And you ran ahead with a light breeze flitting through the greenery of a gorgeous Arkansas spring, the air tinged simultaneously with a slight of chill and the beginnings of humidity…The chickadees and finches were singing their tunes and for the first time in a long time I was clear headed enough to grab onto all of it. There’s a strange sense in me about this time in life when we’re new to a community, you and your brother so small, so much to do, so little time, and sometimes no energy, pain, and very little rest to get it all done with. Your mom and I sit mindlessly on the couch after you all go to be more often than not. Holding hands, but without the reserves to interact much (its getting better as we get more sleep, but man it was rough for a bit). The sense is – don’t miss this time. Don’t let it slip away without letting it fully wash over you. Like an amazing piece of music, you’ll want to hit repeat but you won’t be able to. And I’ve been worried about you. You’re so energetic with such a difficulty focusing. And I have seen in our lessons lately that our frustration compounds on each other such that I am afraid your gifted mind might be wasted without manifesting your full potential – trouble in school, thinking you’re dumb because you learn differently, and getting so upset with learning that you forsake the joy of it all together. But when I saw you yesterday, loping toward the creek, your heart free and clear – focused and creative and fun – it was like seeing and hearing the beautiful song that has guided my life since I was 9 and started running around the block every day. It’s the song that helps me put the pieces together, that through movement lets me drink in the beauty of the world around me, to focus when its hard, that reveals itself over and over and I can visit it in discipline, and in need, and in wonder. I’m crying as I type this. Because I see that song in you, son. And I know you’ll be ok. I pray you’ll play that song on repeat. That you’ll play it often. The song of the run. Put your shoes on, turn on some tunes or let the rhythm of your breath and the sound of the trail under your feet drive you, and run as fast, as far, as hard as you need for life to make sense. For your mind to focus. For you to hear the words that come from the mouth of God. For you to know that you are strong enough, smart enough, and on the right path. For you to be broken so that you can be reborn. For the problems to be solved and the way forward to be revealed to you. I have run in more cities than I can count. Lord willing, I’ll take you on some of the routes that changed my life someday. Through the wooded, rolling mountains of Appalachia in East Tennessee and through the barren and pined Rockies in Colorado. On the beach in St. Lucia and through the city of Cozumel. Downtown Dallas with the ritzy houses and giant skyscrapers. Ghetto Dallas with the homeless and the panhandlers. Paths in the woods and highways without shoulders. High school tracks in the early morning and busy college campuses in the rush hour between classes. Vanderbilt trails, Denver hikes, downtown Los Angeles, Cabo hills, Minnesota parks, Missouri corn fields….I’ve left my foot prints everywhere. I have run in more places than I’ve slept. More places than I’ve worked. Like the song that sets the tune when I want to do a good job, be awake, set myself apart. The altar I bring the sounds of life to so that they might be arranged in a pattern I can hold onto and enjoy. I’ve run confused on the eve of my divorce. I’ve run crying after being betrayed by a family member. I’ve run fasted facing the death of a loved one. I’ve run elated after learning I’d be a father. I’ve run triumphant after receiving a promotion at work. I’ve run thoughtfully after learning a lesson that changed everything. I’ve run creatively with a show or article or workout or life problem to solve in a new way. I’ve run through pain while rehabbing an injury. I've run sleep deprived, sick, tired, salty, stormy -- cold and hot. Today I saw you hit the play button on that song. The one that I couldn’t have hoped to teach you. It flows out of you too. Ohala que tu nunca pararse correr. That’s Spanish – something a friend of mine said to me that has stuck with me for a long time. “May God grant that you never stop running” May He grant the same for you, Gabriel. ------------------------------------------------- Run 50 of #run100 in 2021! This one is obviously dedicated to Gabriel who is too young to have a Better Daily account (yet!) 6 months ago, I set out to get 100 runs in this year and today I hit the halfway point (2 days ahead of schedule!) 100 runs was a goal for consistency and though I've run more miles and more quickly in the past, this has turned out to be a powerful focus for me this year. I've sincerely enjoyed sharing this challenge with you! #betterdaily #run100

Posted by Coach Alex VanHouten at 2021-06-28 14:57:48 UTC