As the runs
have gotten longer, coach and I have tried to find ways to make them
entertaining so that our excitement for the training doesn’t wane. We did a six
mile run along Avalon beach and a twelve mile run in Center City, Philadelphia.
I did eleven miles in my hometown of Anderson, IN and fourteen miles in
Louisville KY where my daughter lives. It takes some time and planning, especially
since these runs are taking 2 and 3 hours at a time. Recently, we had trouble
fitting our fifteen mile run in over the weekend so we did it on a Monday
afternoon. This was not our best idea. It was hot and humid and we both had
already put in a full day of work. We ran on a local road with lots of hills.
We made relatively good time, 3 hours 11 minutes, but we both got too
dehydrated and over- heated. I was sick for an hour after the run. Even worse,
my left knee started hurting and over the next two days deteriorated to the
point that I could not walk without limping or even climb stairs. I started
self-treating with ice and ibuprofen and just hoped for the best.
We had
planned to do our next long run of fourteen miles in Central Park, NYC. This
was 6 days after the ill-fated fifteen mile run. The morning of the run was
beautiful and the park was bustling with runners. My knee was better, but far
from good. I wanted to run in the park so badly. I wanted to be a part of all
the energy and activity. I wanted to experience this with Coach.
I wanted the Marathon more.
I bowed out.
I knew that by running, I was putting in jeopardy any hopes to participate in
the marathon. My knee needed more time to heal and rushing the process could
have completely derailed my training.
My mother
used to say that I was a “Where’s the pony girl”. It’s an old saying used to describe
someone with an eternally optimistic attitude. The story goes that a little
girl walks into a barn full of horse shit and she looks up at her Daddy and
asks, “Where’s the pony?” My life has sucker punched me in the gut on more than
a few occasions and I have lost that little girl. If I were to walk into a barn
full of horse shit now, I would probably say, “Other than me, who’s going to clean
up this mess?” Well, that day at Central Park, I’d like to think that I got a
little closer to the person I used to be. I let go of my disappointment and
decided to find other things to enjoy in the park. It wasn’t hard to do.
First the
people watching: I saw people of all races and nationalities enjoying
themselves in different ways. Some were running and walking, of course, others
were riding in horse drawn carriages, doing yoga, and competing in large groups
of Simon Says. I saw people boating in a small pond with a gondolier and a woman
playing classical music on a violin. There were 3 bongo drummers, two black men
with long dreadlocks and one white guy in a basketball jersey and a baseball
cap. There was a very fit father running shirtless in bike shorts while
pushing two kids in a stroller. I saw him twice.
Second the
sights: I saw the Dakota where John Lennon lived and died. I saw his “Imagine”
memorial in “Strawberry Fields”. Coach and I were contemplating just how many
of the Beatles’ songs were written while they were high and concluded that
probably most of them would fit that billing. We put Imagine and Let
it Be on top of the list. There are parts of the park that are wooded,
parts with lakes and ponds, and parts with ballparks and playgrounds. There
were statues of all sorts, everywhere. Funny how many of them are posed with their
arms in the air. Elation or exhaustion? Victory
or surrender?
Third the
experiences: I went swinging. I got really high just like I used to do when I
was a young girl. I lasted all of 30 seconds before the nausea set in. Not to
be deterred, Coach and I decided to ride the Merry Go Round. The price was
right, only $2.50. I had the outside pony, he had the middle, and some other
woman was on the inside. It was a long fun ride. Coach tried to be friendly to
his fellow rider by inquiring, “Ride here much?” She looked slightly baffled
and confused. Maybe she didn’t speak English. A photographer took our picture.
At the end of the ride we checked this out but had to reject it when we were
informed that they had no way to photo shop my waistline or his chin line. We
succeeded in making ourselves laugh even if none of the other people around us fully
appreciated our humor.
I enjoyed
watching a very fit father running shirtless in bike shorts while pushing two
kids in a stroller. Wait, did I already mention him?
