Hello. Like You, I run. Well…I just started running. Back in September of 2012. I had always run while I was in the Navy (when as Billy Joel might sing I “wore a younger man’s clothes”). But this kind of running was always job-embedded. I don’t think I ever relished these early morning company runs. I don’t think I liked to lead them, and I surely didn’t like when my faster shipmates led them.

But I have come to really appreciate running. I am not a fast person, but I can move in a particular manner that takes me from my driveway, around my subdivision, and back to my driveway. A kind of Family Circus Marathon if you will, I leave a dashed line around five miles of peacefully-paved streets that read like Country View and Shady View. Serenity (except for that January morning when the thermometer struggled to get to zero. I call this day “insanity”).

I have been profoundly affected and moved by the events of this week. As a casual runner training for a mini-marathon, I share very little with the qualifiers of the Boston Marathon yet they feel like my kin. Or at least my kind. They laced up on many a morning or afternoon with the intention of moving along the biggest path of the running year. This was intentional. As intentional as you and I running around the block even though we are already at the place we are going to be after many struggling steps and even more bated breathing.

You might know that I am also a teacher. I belong to a robust community of teachers at Twitter and Facebook called #runteacherrun. Of late, I have also joined another community called the 250/500/750/1000 challenge (an injury kept my miles down in February, but this weekend I will be approaching 220 of my 1000 for this year. How’s that for accidental pacing? Ask me some time how many miles I ran between January and August 2012. . .

At some point during the week, I started thinking about what I do each day in the classroom. Then I started to take a look at my numbers over the past couple of years in Room 407 and Room 210.

I counted.

I divided.

I counted again. You cannot make this kind of stuff up.

Six courses taught over a two day period.

26 (and some change. . .not quite 26.2. . .that would have been something).

Well. . .what am I going to do when I come to this kind of epiphany? Well, without taking up too much space here, I’ll tell you quickly. Here are 26 Points to You.

1. I might not always hear my own breath, but I know that I am breathing.

2. I am NOT in love with running every day.

3. I miss running on my rest days.

4. Reflection is among the very best uses of the double-back.

5. Mile-schmile. . .some mornings I only run a while.

6. Sometimes, I look at my shoe laces just to have some symmetry in my life.

7. The road is real; there is no mythology in asphalt. It lies; it is.

8. Every run is a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end.

9. “Go, you!” is sometimes more helpful than “Good for you!”

10. The footfalls of a 1000 can never drown out the one fallen (see #4)

11. If you know what “want” really means, you’ll look for shoes today.

12. In the dark, everything appears to be flat.

13. Contrary to personal beliefs, you really DO like hills.

14. It’s never “one and done” with runners, there’s “tomorrow’s run.”

15. Trading out old shoes can be a tender moment. Embrace it. Tend to the sole.

16. I used to chide my wife about purses. Before I ran in two separate shoes.

17. The road is optimal, but my treadmill speaks opportunity on rainy days.

18. Okay. Sometimes I glance at my calves to see if they’re getting bigger.

19. Others can only suggest shoes for you. You choose your own gear.

20. I’m strong enough to stand up and say, “This/these don’t fit right.”

21. If the shoe fits, wear it. Even if it’s not the snazziest model.

22. I quietly cheer you on when I’m driving and I see you on the road.

23. Finish lines are temporal. They are folded up at the end of the event.

23. I am a runner. A part of a great lineage (some say “mileage”).

24. I am part of a community that encourages what I do and what I achieve.

25. Stop? I WON’T stop. I won’t EVER stop.

26. A year ago, I wouldn’t have said any of this to you.

That’s it.

26 Points to You. . .

All drafted in some bagel shop in Louisville where while tacking these down to a yellow legal pad before blogging, I have watched a number of my family members moving down the sidewalks.

They haven’t stopped either.

I highly-doubt they ever will.

Update: On Sunday, Mr. Hankins did three miles in the morning and four miles in the afternoon for a total of seven miles. Those afternoon four were not exactly pretty, but the scenery was nice along the Ohio River. On Monday morning, Mr. Hankins will run at least 2.2 miles to complete 26.2 miles in the past week in honor of those affected by the bombings at the Boston Marathon. Our thoughts and prayers go out those injured and to those hurting from the events of last Monday and Thursday.

Now. . .go, you!