Elise & Paul + 3

I have an older, married friend whose wife and children often vacation without him. When they go out of town, he calls it his 'hall-pass' and he seems to relish the time to himself to run and bike and generally go carousing about the town, stirring up drunken mayhem (though I'm convinced he's more bark than bite and is used to weaving charming yarns for the sake of a few clingers-on who live vicariously through these exploits; Likewise, I admit shamefully to perhaps having been drawn in by a tale or two myself).

And yet, it ceased being a good idea to stay behind and forego the Ya-Ya Sisterhood Weekend at around...say, 7:45 p.m. on Day 1 when I had just returned from a run....well, less of a 'run', per se, and more of a sweaty meandering around Abacoa...and was faced with the very dismal prospect of frozen meat raviolis for dinner. Not that the only reason to follow my wife and son on the YYSW is to be fed. I am quiet capable of feeding myself. But as Elise will attest, I lose the motivation to eat and now, seemingly, sleep (yes, it is 11:48 p.m.) without them, though I plan to knock out 13 before the sun rises. (But I don't need to write about lack of sleep. Elise and I aren't unique in this respect, and acknowledge that, if anything, we have been luckier than most. I've tried to go to bed, but it seems I am in need of my evening wind-down ritual as much as Sam. And it doesn't usually include a screening of 'Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer' on pay-per-view.)

I am writing this to attest that the notion of a hall-pass is a lot better on paper than in reality. In reality, it sucks.

For a dedicated runner with Boston marathon-qualifying time aspirations, the thought of having a few days to get in some long runs without feeling as though I am missing anything at home had some initial allure. That allure is gone. I cannot say that running is not important. Running is vital. It is fundamental and philosophical, and there would be no human race without running (how would we have chased down the mastodons for survival? Could you say the same about NASCAR? The NFL? Cup stacking or spelling bees?...though if Sil is a good speller, then I will treat it as though he is curing world hunger with each correct homonym). Is it guilt-free Friday yet? My admission? Sometimes, I imagine that I am a mustang, galloping through wild grasses while I run. Elise knows this about me. I don't have feet. I have hooves. But with all that being said, there is simply no point to running when there is no one to run to, no one waiting for you at the end. Without it, there's just the end. Which, now, isn't good enough for me.

Perhaps the concept of hall-pass holds no appeal because, in essence, I had a hall-pass for ten years and all I wanted to do was trade it in. I didn't know what to do with it. I was a lousy bachelor. I didn't get married to hang out at sports bars by myself, eating crappy chicken wings and watching college basketball on obnoxiously-large plasma TVs. I got married so I could hang out at sports bars, eating crappy chicken wings and watching college basketball on obnoxiously-large plasma TVs with Elise.

I will never have a hall-pass as it evinces a get-out-of-jail-free card. When Elise told me that Sam got his wings on the plane, it made me sad because I missed it. It wasn't his first word or his first step or learning to ride a bike, but for some reason it seemed to me as important a milestone as tracking moving objects or lifting his head. I don't need for them to go away to appreciate that time spent with them is precious and fleeting, but when they are gone I realize viscerally that the things that I think are important to me aren't as important as I think they are when I don't have them here to share them with. I hope Elise and Sam have a wonderful time in Annapolis, but I can't wait for them to come home.