Tuesday, January 7, 2014

In which I ask the musical question: What's Going On?

In order to abate your breathless excitement about my return to blogging, I looked through all the photos on my phone, which of course, besides Facebook, is the only chronicle of my existence these days. If you are actually experiencing breathless excitement and do not want it to end, stop reading.

Also, am currently in the depths of decision making. Do I pay 2013 prices for opening and closing my grave or do I wait until I am dead and make someone else pay for it at current prices? The cemetery sent an email. They want to know.

Here are some of what I've been up to.

One year ago yesterday, something insane happened to my back during a slow 3-mile run. My foot began to hurt and the pain moved quickly up to my hip through my knee. A few days later, I could hardly move. There was a lot of pain on top of some other medical issues to add to the mix. I sat at work on an ice pack. I was so much fun. How my coworkers handle me I can hardly imagine. Except of course that most of the time I'm a delight to be around and I have a great personality.

Shut up.

Despite the stupidity going on behind me, so to speak, my doctor told me I should run. "It will shake your muscles loose and besides, runners are crazy. If you don't start running soon, we'll have mental health issues." You have to love a doctor who gets it. So I started running like a grandma post hip-surgery. At least in my mind, I was being cautious and I'm sure that although I think I took my time, I probably took a few cautious runs and then said, "this is crap" because in July I ran or walked hills to the tune of 100 miles.

In October, I ran what I think was my best half marathon ever. I also did a run/walk/run all year long, but on The Day I ran the entire 13.1 miles. Proving that you do not have to kill yourself all year just to complete an event. Chill, fellow runners.

I may or may not have spent a lot of time and money on this one. The thing is, and don't most of us realize this, when he goes away to college and I don't get to see him it will not have been enough time or enough money or enough prayer or enough love or enough lecturing or enough of anything. I already wish I could rewind 6-7 years and snuggle more, hang out more, pray more, spend more, love more.

Speaking of going back in time, I only recently started hanging out a lot more with this one. I had let his shyness hold me back, but not any more. This guy makes me smile. Ditto the 6-7 year rewind. He's a junior in high school, so I still have some time to put in a big supply of Kleenex for when he goes to college.

I do my level best to keep this girl amused. Like suggesting she use potato chip bag clips in her hair. And then photographing them. And then popping those photos up unexpectedly, which makes her so happy not ever. She loves me. Who wouldn't?

 Apparently I spent some time at football games. If you know me on Facebook, you get that: it's sort of a joke. I miss very few football games these days.
 I visited family here and there in the last two years. This is me visiting family when I was a teenager. A couple years ago, my mom, my niece and I visited my dad's sister in Tennessee. Mostly I visit the Ohio relatives. I have relatives elsewhere on the future to-visit list. Hope they let me in when I get there.
Football players ripping through Doritos. The guy in the back is the youngest and I'm not sure yet what he'll be doing in high school. I'm not convinced football is his gig. He wants to play drums. I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole. His parents might kill me.
Oh and track meets. How I love track meets. The world loves a good track meet. Let me tell you in case you didn't know: attending track meets is a sign of love that surpasses attendance at any. other. sport. known to teen-aged athletes. Talk about watching grass grow. Literally, you can watch it grow because track meets are 12,32.y9 hours long and your runner finishes his event in 46 seconds. If that isn't love, it's lunacy.

1 comment:

Rose said...

The thing one year ago, yesterday sounds painful and scary both! Glad you lived to tell the tale.