Running...

Running...

Original post written on August 18, 2012. Minor changes for clarity made in Aug 2026.

Twelve years. That's how long I have been teaching at Lincoln.

Twelve years. That's how long I have taken the same route from my house to school.

In that time I have seen many houses for sale, then sold. Some were torn down to make room for a new house, a new family, and new students. I've seen the streets that I traverse through Elmhurst being ripped apart and rebuilt to make them safer and more driver friendly, not to mention more car-friendly.

Twelve years. I've seen high school kids standing on corners, waiting for the school bus to pick them up for school. Some of them recognize my car while others recognize me as their former teacher. Most of them, however, probably do not pay much attention to me as I pass by.

Among all that I see, Monday through Friday mornings there is an unmistakable figure, usually two blocks ahead of me on Fairfield. He is a man. He has slightly slumped shoulders and a sturdy, square build. He makes his way down the middle of the street toward me at a steady pace that shows he is an experienced runner.

My car approaches him and we make the necessary movements to allow us both to pass. As I get closer to him I can see the expression on his 60-plus-year-old face—one of determination, concentration, and pleasure. His arms swing methodically and his breathing is tempered and deliberate. He always looks into the driver's side of my car and we exchange a wave.

I've never talked with this man*. I don't know his name. I have no idea of his life story. I have come to expect to see him on his morning run each time I drive to work. I saw him for the first time since our summer break on Friday morning (8.17.12) as the school year had just begun.

I was glad to see the running man. I realized that seeing him each morning provides me with a sense of peace and calmness. It provides me with a way to look at my day. The determination, concentration, pleasure, and deliberate nature he exudes is exactly what I must bring to my classroom, my school, and my life each and every day.

I hope, for his sake and mine, that we can both enjoy the early morning wave we share for years to come.

—Mr. Casten

August 17, 2012

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   *Note: The "running man" and I did meet at the beginning of the 2023–24 school year as he ran across the parking lot and I was entering school. He's a fantastic guy! Before I retired, we met again and exchanged "goodbyes"—something that is so very important to be able to do when leaving a 25-year teaching career.