It’s January 1, 2009. Mason—my seven-year-old early riser—and I are both up before dawn. It’s too cold and icy to think he can ride his bike, but I want to find a way to stick to my New Year’s tradition.
“Want to go on a run?” I ask.
“Huh?”
“You can ride in the jogger,” I elaborate. “If we hurry, maybe we can catch the first sunrise of the year.”
Mason’s game, so he bundles up and I load him in the sleeping bag that’s designed for our baby jogger—and a child about half his size. I click the belt and we’re off.