I don’t know why the
stars didn’t align properly so I could get me a good night sleep, but something
was out of whack because I lay awake surfing what felt like a caffeine wave (it
wasn’t), and then come four in the morning my eyes popped open. Bing.
All done sleepin’. Of course when
the alarm goes off at seven-fifteen my body is finally primed and ready to get
on board and remember how it’s done. Such
is life. Ain’t it always the way.
I
could use all the shut-eye I could get, because I had the big eighteen mile run
today. Jim and I had discussed it and he
was going to join me later with his bike for at least the last six-mile loop
around the lake. But when I arrived at the
Stony Creek course at 8:15 I texted him and told him not to come, it was so
windy and cold; it would have been absolutely miserable riding a bike for well over
an hour-especially when it’s not like he would be going all out and working up
a huge sweat to keep himself warm.
So
when I took off and thought about running for three hours by myself, today it
made me lonely. It is so much easier to
have the distraction of a friend. I
guess I don’t have any, well, any that are stupid enough to go out on a
Saturday morning in the blistering cold and run for three miserable hours. I thought I could latch on to two girls who
were just starting out as I was making my way around the loop for a second time,
heading into my mile seven. But I came
up behind them and tried to make some small talk and I think I creeped them
out- this older chick right on their heels, kind of invading their personal
space, (maybe a bit too needy?) so after a couple miles they turned around to
head back. Bummer too because they were
running wind interference for me, and that section of road that crosses over where
one lake meets up with another is like a Nassau-training wind tunnel, and I had
to hunker down that much more in my pathetic, abandoned state. Sigh.
It
was about a mile later that I saw him ahead, my husband, coming on his
bike. Of course that got me all
emotional- and crying and running do not mix, I start to hyperventilate. I kept it together though but when he reached
me saw I was emotional and was worried about my knees; I told them they were
great. Everything was great. I really meant it too.
I
remember the moment when the person I looked to when I was in scary, dire pain
switched from my mother to my husband.
It was in the delivery room and the birth of our first child. Every doctor’s shot and trauma for most of my
life could only be comforted by my mommy (and daddy); she was the one that I
trusted to reassure me, a tall order and she always came through. But in that childbirth experience I learned
that when my husband had to step out to get something to eat after about twelve
hours of hand holding and support the pain and stress grew when my mother, my
sweet mommy, sat with me.
I
always call him my rock man and right away as he rolled along beside me I told
him to tell me a story, talk to me to help distract the pain. He chose instead to come up with his typical quirky
nothings to get me laughing, another thing that does not help when systems are
so incredibly taxed. He kept singing the
ridiculously stupid song from The Lego Movie: “Everything is Awesome”.
God
sure knew what He was doing when He put us two knuckleheads together because I
love to laugh. I really do. I love being happy, and my husband is the
king of comedy in our own special silly world.
As I have said many times, he’s the ying to my yang- together we’re a
couple of ying-yangs but somehow we make it work.
I
finished my eighteen very strong, my legs were noodles, my tailbone area
killing me but I felt really good about it.
So grateful, so incredibly grateful to God for giving me the ability one
more time to go outside and run. So
grateful that the potential deal-breaker hips, and knees and back have been
non-issues! That is so incredible! Hooray for Teresa’s body!
I
told my husband later in the day as we were driving to spend time with brother
KC and Jenny, son Mitchell, and new baby Jack that there is such a freedom in that
accomplishment. To set that bar up there
and reach it always feels good. He told
me yes, and if we lived in some remote village, and they needed someone to get
that case of serum to the kids with Yellow Fever, I would be able to run those
eighteen miles and save the whole town.
I
corrected and said that maybe I could carry a couple vials, but the rest of the
kids are screwed because there was no way I could heft a whole case. He said it was better than nothing, as he
would have been dead in the woods, too tired to go on.
I
can still run eighteen miles. So I have
that going for me. Which is nice.
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