The experience of running has led to some fascinating encounters and favorable memories.

             While running along the soccer field of my former high school, I came across Randy Muetzel, my gym teacher for four years. It had been 16 years since I last saw him, but he hadn't aged a day, nor had his tennis instructions. Mr. Muetzel has had a significant impact on my teaching style, as P.E. teacher now myself, I have borrowed a lot of my teaching content and assessments from him. He was way ahead of the curve (20 years) when it came to the pickleball craze. What I admired most about him was his approach to playing with students. He never crushed our shots but kept the rally going until we made a mistake. If we did manage to sneak one past him, he'd applaud our skill. It's a shame that physical education often takes a backseat to academics in schools, despite everyone agreeing on the importance of health. Mr. Muetzel's class always began with 5 minute runs, and the semester ended with a 12 minute run to see how many laps you could run. Those final two minutes always burned like hell, but I pushed through them. I know view “Muetzels” as a unit of measurement. When I set out for a run, I try to calculate how many Metzls it will take to complete my run.

Me with Mr. Muetzel

                 Besides bumping into Mr. Muetzel, I've had the pleasure of running with various individuals, including my running teammate, John. He's the one who helped me run to the end of my first half-marathon. While I felt like my legs might give out on mile seven, John casually cracked jokes about snippets of conversations we heard while passing other runners and quizzed me about animal names in the Cherokee language that were written in the cement around Lake Bde Maka Ska. John has undergone quite a transformation in terms of running. For over 15 years, John detested running so much that he claimed the greatest day of his life was not having to run the presidential fitness mile at our elementary school because a tractor had exploded one minute before the run. John is now somehow a seasoned runner will multiple marathons and even an ultramarathon under his belt, and is a great guy to give you a guiding hand – both figuratively and in the case of that first half-marathon literally.

John with his father Tom

                Then there's Tom Murray, John's dad, my confirmation sponsor, and, for all practical purposes, my non-biological father. Lionel refers to him as Gramps. During many of our summer runs, Tom rode alongside us, carrying water and sharing riveting, sometimes ghastly, stories about the people who lived in every eighth house we passed. I owe Tom a great sum of gratitude as he was the one who insisted on proper running gear and prompted me to get my shingles checked out – a true caretaker.

A view of the stunning running trail up north.

                         Lastly, there's Jake Guzik, a friend since our early high school days. We even ventured to Venezuela together for a gap year in 2007. Back then the Venezuelan Bolivar was valued at 2.17 to 1 USD, but it has since skyrocketed to astronomical levels, it is probably even higher by the time you read this. During our visit to Jake's mother's home up north, he took me on a delightful run through ATV and deer trails in the forest. Jake even led the way on his eBike, attracting all the horseflies and sparing me the annoyance.

            The runs haven’t just been workouts, but enriching journeys for Lionel and me to tell stories, explore the outdoors, reminisce, and build shared experiences.