Ode to my double jogger

Last month, as part of my continued effort to purge all baby paraphernalia from our home, I sold our double jogger stroller. I was about to delete this picture (used in my ad) but decided it wasn't right to let this occasion pass without paying homage to the role this jogger played in the life of our young family. For five days a week, in all kinds of weather (it has an all important wind/rain guard for the determined New England walker), for more than four years, this jogger was tethered to my arm for five beautiful, peaceful, soul refueling miles. (During one of our last walks together I estimated it's mileage at well over 2,000.) The boys were accustom to this routine and sat comfortably watching the sights of the busy town; the dogs playing in the park, the ebb and flow of the river with the changing seasons. Clutching sippy cups and snack bowls, and usually a special stuffy or blanket, they rested as I recharged. These walks often included the company of two good friends, their joggers also each filled with a contented soul. The three of us would meet after work and spend five miles talking, laughing, occasionally crying. These were good walks.

It was hard to let go of this jogger. But the combined weight of the boys was rapidly approaching that of my own, and Bridge Street was not showing any signs of leveling off. Despite my impressive upper body strength, these factors added a considerable element of danger to our walking routine. This realization coincided with the fact that the boys had grown bored of the jogger, and it was time to trade in this beloved family ritual in exchange for group bike rides.

After placing my ad and administering an appropriate applicant background check, our jogger went to another deserving family. Good bye jogger. I will miss you.