How a vacation taught me to cherish running

Estimated read time: 4-5 minutes

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SALT LAKE CITY — One of my favorite childhood memories is a trip my family took to Disneyland. I was about 5 years old, maybe a little younger, and my brother was around 3. We had a large station wagon with a “way-back” seat that faced the traffic behind us. It was a source of constant negotiation between my brother and me.

My parents decided we would drive from our home in Eugene, Ore. to Anaheim, Calif. in our beloved monstrosity with our suitcases, a Neil Diamond tape and a map. Sadly, when I tell my kids these details, they immediately ask what a tape is.

What I don’t remember is anything about our days at Disneyland. I don’t remember the rides. I don’t remember meeting characters. I don’t remember spending ridiculous amounts of money on hats no one could possibly wear in public elsewhere.

All I remember is spending time together, singing “Sweet Caroline” and making faces at the cars behind us as we sat, nauseatingly, in the way-back.

Not long ago, my husband and I decided it was time to make similar memories for our kids. We loaded up the car with DVDs instead of tapes, a GPS instead of a map, but with the same excitement and anticipation I had so many years ago.

There was one change for me, though. I wasn’t so much excited about riding Space Mountain as I was to simply have time with my family. Time away from the chaos and busyness of everyday life. Time not spent doing household chores or shuttling kids to and fro. Real time together to reconnect.

I wasn’t disappointed.

Something clicked for me on this trip. The moments that matter most in life aren’t grandiose. They are the simple, small, quiet moments that stick most in our minds. A small child’s head leaning against your shoulder in happy exhaustion. The squeeze of a little hand in yours as you board the Dumbo ride. The sounds of peeling laughter when you’re stuck in traffic after a hot and happy day at Sea World.

It was during this vacation that I also realized the same is true in my running life. It’s very easy for me to focus on specific goals. It's easy for me to get caught up in the details of training. It’s also very easy for me to beat myself up when I fall short.

When I think back to some of my favorite running moments, most of my cherished memories don't involve finish lines and medals. They are when I’m running with friends, soaking in the atmosphere or simply enjoying what my legs still allow me to do.

The morning our family left for our trip, I woke up early to squeeze in a 20-mile training run I knew I’d skip during vacation. I ran the first 11 miles in complete darkness and solitude. It was a surreal, but incredibly peaceful run. I then met a dear friend and finished the last 10 miles with her as the sun rose over the mountains. The stillness broken only by the sounds of our feet and the stories we shared. It’s a run I will always cherish.

I didn’t run much on vacation. I didn’t want to. Future races, training plans, time goals all faded into the sunset. None of it mattered. I needed this break, this time away, to reassess why I really run. Do I run to win? Do I run for trophies and medals? I can honestly say, “No.” Believe me, winning feels good. And I love my medals. But like my childhood memories, it’s not the big moments that really stick out in my memory. It’s the small, quiet ones that speak loudest.

It was good for me to have this time away. To put running in the “way-back” seat for awhile has reminded me that I really run for the simple joy of running. And a little Neil Diamond in the background doesn’t hurt, either.

*Photo: Kimberly, Ali and Kaitlynne Cowart pose after not running, but digging their toes in the sand at Hunington Beach. (Photo: Kim Cowart, Christian Cowart)*Kim Cowart is a wife, mother, 24- Hour Fitness instructor and marathoner who believes the Dumbo ride at Disneyland was created specifically to terrorize her but can easily be talked into riding it with a little squeeze of the hand. Read more of her work on the Deseret News blog, Reasons to Run.