Hello, Old Friend
I just checked my Garmin, which is at 32% – so now it’s on the charger for a bit before I head out and I will ruminate while I wait.
It’s cool, damp and breezy, a storm coming in later this afternoon. It will be a good day to stay in and cook with my mom. Number One Son is getting married Friday and we are having a gaggle of people here tomorrow night for BBQ. She and I will spend a dry, warm, cozy afternoon making potato salads, slaw and cookies while it rains outside. The cats will wander in and out and the dog will hound our every step waiting for something to drop, CHOMP. Homey. Nice.
Monday I headed out for wog/slog/jog, whatever it might be called. I managed four miles and nearly three of it jogging. I missed doing them Sunday, but otherwise I’ve been getting my planks done every day. It could be said they are getting easier but that’s rather like saying running hills gets easier. It doesn’t because as soon as it does you go faster or longer. In the article I read the author was told by her PT that she should be able to hold several planks “very” easily for 60 seconds. I’m holding three and my arms are not quivering quite as much. I guess that does not indicate I’ve reached the “easy” stage, much less the “very”. But at least they no longer feel quite as much like limp noodles. That’s good, right?
I run in the neighborhood across the street from me as mine is rather chock-a-block with a busy road you must take in order to get to the other parts of the area, so I run to the end of my street, cross the busier street and run in the lovely, quiet neighborhood there. I headed out and nothing really hurt, just pinging. Pinging, once a bad sign, is now a good sign. We’re moving backward through the aches. Peeling off the layers.
It was cool and breezy, beautiful. This fall is not as colorful as some but there is one tree that is a beautiful orange, I don’t know what kind of tree but they stand out, so pretty. I love my four mile route through the neighborhood which, when developed, wisely did not do any clear-cutting. Huge oaks, shag-bark hickory, maples, large houses set back from the winding street.
Right now on this route I frequently see a doe with twins that look about half grown. I’m guessing one is female and one is male because, first, one still has some spots on her hind quarters and the other doesn’t, and secondly because the other one tends to be further from Mom every time I see him, while the lightly spotted one is right by Mom. “HEY! MOM! Watch! Look! I’m in the other yard!” It’s not quite on the level of finding out over Christmas dinner, when you sit back and just listen for a while as the four of them laugh and tell stories on each other, that some of your progeny went porta-john tipping one night, but it still seems more a male thing than female. Rather like the B’ster in his Superman costume showing his “guns”. I don’t remember my daughter worrying about her “guns”. I think of this and it makes me laugh every time I see the deer.
It’s no wonder the deer roam, safe. Cars stop for the deer who wander across to the other side for more of whatever tastes best. I’ve heard you can give up on growing hostas. A mile in I see mom and the twins. They stand, watching me, chewing, as I slog past, talking to them. “There goes another one of them,” mom says to the kids, “crazynutjob runner, they’re safe. They’re crazy, but they’re safe.”
Each mile I stop for a moment and stretch my lower back and gauge. Still hanging in there. Still holding on. I reach my turn-around and head back, looking at the beautiful trees, breathing the cool air deeply. Hello, running, old friend.
Hello, back, running replies.
I’ve missed you.
But it’s not been too long this time, running reassures.
Yes. I missed you but I knew you were there, waiting patiently.
I’ll be here always, as long as you stay strong.
I’m trying, running, I’m trying.
Will I learn this lesson, finally? Or will I, type-A first born, headstrong and impatient, fail another test someday?
I hate to say so but I might. And please God I will again stand up, brush myself off, and move forward again. And again, and again.