Running Through My Past

My marathon training has officially begun. Each week I receive a running schedule from Coach. We are now in week 4 of a 16 week training protocol. There are 4 runs each week of increasing distances with built in rest and cross training days. The cross training days of walks, bicycling, golf, and tennis are refreshing. The rest days are long. If the plan is designed to get me addicted to running, it is working.

The weekly schedule has a rhythm to it. It begins with a short run, doubles up the next day, goes back down for the next, and then hits increasing highs for the last run of each week. This week, I was back in my hometown of Anderson, Indiana and scheduled for my longest run thus far, 11 miles. Instead of just running round and round "looking" for the miles, I planned ahead and plotted out a course which would take me the distance without a lot of hills, traffic, or back tracking. I had plotted my course well but had not anticipated the constant flow of memories that it would evoke.

My hometown was a great place to grow up. It was young and alive, full of awesome parks, good schools, and safe neighborhoods.  Now, it struggles to find that same vitality. Like many other Midwestern rust belt towns, it was jilted by the auto industry some years ago and has never completely recovered. Still, it is mine and I love it. As I ran, memories came to me, not in chronological order, but ordered by distance and place, like mile markers on a highway.

Mile 1- Tam’s Drug Store

From a young age (much younger than the times we live in now would ever consider prudent) my sister, brother, and I would walk the 6 blocks down 10th street to Tam’s to get our fill of candy and soda pop. My favorite treats were Sugar Daddies and Jawbreakers. It seems my habit of treating myself to treats has been around a long time.

Mile 2- Edgewater Park/White River
This park along the river had slides so tall that just climbing up them would cause a knot of fear to form in your stomach. Then, coming down, you would go so fast that you were lucky if you could get your feet underneath you in time to avoid a wipe out at the finish.  A short time later, I ran past the rocks on the bank of the river where my father patiently tried to teach my children to fish. Casting out and reeling in slowly, over and over again

Mile 3- Athletic Park/City Free Fairs     

Growing up in Anderson, the best part of summer came when the City Free Fair came to town. Athletic Park would come alive with carnival rides, games, and food. After riding the Zipper, Scrambler, and Tilt-A-Whirl, the brave children of Anderson ( I include myself in this category) would then attempt to keep down the corn dogs, candy apples, and elephant ears we had gorged on.

Mile 4- Frisch’s Big Boy

This was a 50’s era drive in restaurant. At the end of our first date, my high school sweetheart and I went there. We shared a hot fudge cake, part of which he dribbled down the front of his shirt. We both noticed it, but neither of us mentioned it, maybe we were too shy. I fell in love that night.

Mile 5-Shadyside Lake

I was approaching the halfway point of the run and doing a quick assessment of my progress, when suddenly I turned my head and saw myself clearly at the edge of the lake with my mother and CareBear. I’m not sure exactly what lake we were at, but the memory was vivid. We were feeding bread to the ducks. CareBear was just a toddler and not very steady on her feet. She was so excited and intent on her task that she got too close to the edge of the lake and fell right in. I was close by and immediately reached down and fished her out. The water was only a few feet deep and she was never in any real danger but I had a moment of motherly panic nonetheless. I held her, wet and sputtering, thankful. My CareBear was safe.

So often I stop the memories because they cause so much pain. This memory snuck up on me when my defenses were down. It didn’t hurt though, it was a gift. A gift that running gave me.

I turned around and finished the last half of the run with a peaceful heart. I got more out of it than I gave.

Dr. Chuckles and My Pinkie

My running style can best be described as a shuffly jog. We can fuse those words and call it a "juffle". My juffle provides me with the very minimum amount of foot clearance necessary to propel my body forward. So many other runners seem to have springs in their legs. They literally bounce along like bunnies. I was never more envious of these runners than on the day I did a face plant on the walkway bridge over the Delaware River. Apparently, walkway bridges are not even surfaces and are not great places for juffling.  Once on the ground, my attention went immediately to my left pinkie. The poor thing was bent in all kinds of odd angles. I put it back together the best I could and stumbled home.

Now let's rewind back to June.When I started this marathon mission, I had tried to get an appointment with my long time family physician. For purposes of this blog I'll call him Dr. Chuckles. He is a good, kind physician and I trust him completely. I wanted his opinion on my running to this extreme and hoped for his support. Unfortunately, he was not available for a consultation because he was only putting in limited office hours as he recovered from a total hip replacement (his second major joint replacement). It is kind of ironic that he is also a long time runner and former marathoner.

The day after my fall, I decided to get a medical opinion about the fate of my pinkie. Well, imagine my excitement as I sat in the treatment room expecting to see a nurse or maybe even the new guy, Dr. JuniorHigh, when in walked Dr. Chuckles. I almost jumped up and clapped! I felt like I had just won the lottery. The discussion about my pinkie was short. It went something like this:

Dr. Chuckles, "Are you a concert violinist?"
MenopausalMarathoner. "No."
Dr. Chuckles, "No one is going to operate on your little finger. Leave it in a splint for 3 weeks and when you take it out, it will either be straight or it won't."

Ok, fine, no big surprise there. Still, I was determined to get the most out of this visit. I told him about my menopause and the marathon. He didn't hesitate..."You can do it." He went on to tell me all about his running days. He had a long time running partner and they would run and talk for 5 miles everyday. Topics included wine, women, and song. He ran 4 marathons, the first at age 44. He shared how his orthopedist had tried to tell him that his running had caused his joints to prematurely deteriorate, but his response had been that he believed his running was the reason he had lived long enough for his joints to have time to deteriorate. It was sad to see how much he obviously missed it.

By now, Dr. Chuckles had spent a relatively long time with me and I knew he would be out the door soon. I decided to squeeze one more tiny little issue into the visit. I showed him my big toes. They'd been hurting a bit lately. The ensuing discussion went something like this:

Dr. Chuckles."Those look like slight bunions."
MenopausalMarathoner, "Is there anything I can I do about them?"
Dr. Chuckles, "No, not much. They'll either hurt or they won't."

 It wasn't until I was driving home that I realized that even though I had initially brought up my menopause, neither one of us ever acknowledged, discussed, or mentioned it again.

Dr. Chuckles has been practicing medicine for a very long time.