Patience; the new endurance sport.

Looked up my official time 1:53:21 (it's such a down hill course, I totally would have PR'd had I not used the privy so many times along the course).  Honestly, will I ever learn? I guess I just felt lucky to get in the race at all to keep myself occupied while I waited for Cath to finish the marathon.  I wasn't really taking it like a 'race' as much as a training run. Still, I've got to put my thinking cap on and get things done right one of these times.  That time, given the stops was a real surprize.   Today, I enjoyed the  luxury of running in the morning after the kids are gone to school.  I enjoyed a cool morning by the river still wide and deep from run off.  I ran an leisurely 9:34 ap and enjoyed saying hello to the other people out on this fine morning.  I felt chipper in my new blue running skirt. It has a pocket on the thigh and it's my favorite color blue. I love it. I was tired though. I had such a busy weekend after the Marathon on Saturday, I'm still pooped. I cooked up an Indian feast with real Indian ingredients from the new Bollywood grocery store on 180 North University.  If you've never crushed your own cardamom, you haven't lived.  I made Saag Paneer, Korma, basmati rice w/ fenugreek & cilantro, and Kier w/ pistachios & golden rasins.  It was all super delicious and was perfect with what everyone else brought (Garlic Naan, Tika Misala, Aloo Gobi, Samosa's, Mango Lassie, etc, etc).  Bombay House eat your heart out.  We made our own buffet. Sunday brought more East Coast out-of-towners to my house, but eventually I did get in a nap in the late afternoon. I sat in the fading sun out by the river to read, and the next thing I know I hear my kids laughing at the foot of my lounge chair, while my son says to his sister "go ahead, ask her something....she'll answer you back all crazy and garbeldey." I opened my eyes fully awake, and said "were you talking to me?" and he said "oh, just wanted you to wake up so you could sleep later tonight."  Cheeky monkey. 

I awoke to the rain softly tapping at the windows and the rooftop. The day was grey,and I just wanted to roll over sleep all day. When I took off, wearing my trusty cap and waterproof jacket, I was still tired. But once I got to the river, heard it rushing, breathed in the fresh, wet the air, smelled the lilacs blooming from afar, saw the world green and lush--even in that grey light and steady rain, I couldn't help but catch the spirit of the day. I had the rainy trail down to the lake by myself.  I recalled May 1st as Cath and I ran down the jetti in the rain, and pretended we lived in Seattle, and that Utah Lake was the Puget Sound.  On the way back, there were about 40 kids on the trail. After passing the whole group, which took about a quarter mile, I realized there were about 6 boys still running behind me--chasing/trying to keep up with me.  So looked at them, smiled, and turned it on --they kept up for a few seconds and then dropped out one by one after less than 200 feet.  Take that you 6th grade boys!  That's what you get for calling me "Lucille Balls" in 1979.

9:09/8:43/8:53/9:11/9:20/9:40  Lunchtime riverrun.  Feeling tired and fighting a cold.

I woke up with a bad sore throat, stuffy nose and headache. I don't think I have ever run that slowly in my life. I really might have just walked.  I started slow and thought I'd warm up, but my legs felt like socks filled with sand the whole way. On top of the flu/cold  I have to travel to DC now.  I completley forgot about this trip and had scheduled at least 3 important things this weekend.  My poor daugter-- has a pool party this weekend is now freaking out that I'm not going to be home.  She's really nervous about this dumb thing.  I think a pool party for jr. high school is about the cruelest thing you could ever do to a 13 year old girl or boy for that matter.  But she's determined to go anyway.  In the meantime, I've got to figure when and where to run 20 miles this weekend. It's always unnerving to try and pull off a long run in less familiar territory.  I think I may hit the Mt. Vernon Trail. 

Twice in the past 6 months I've flown on a plane next to someone who had a story for me.  The story starts with my certainty that I'm about to meet God because the plane has a 100% chance of breaking apart mid-air in the sky, and falling 35,000 feet to the ground in a firey mass.  So whoever is sitting next to me, not realizing they are about to meet their maker, begins innocently chatting out a tale of how they almost died because of a heart attack and how unafraid and grateful they are now because every extra day they have is a gift.  Most recently I sat next to a man, who for half of the 4 1/2 hour flight talked to me about his new governemnt job in Arlington VA, how he spent the weekend practicing getting around the city on the Metro with his 13 year old son (who was with him), and how many wonderful things there are to do in DC.  It wasn't until I watched the son move the father's (slack and non-muscular) legs out of the way so he could go to the bathroom, did I realize the man was parapalegic (he had been sitting down before I got on the plane).  So I've been thinking about the message spoken to me, and I think it is:  I need to be less afraid and just try live until I die.  Instead of doing what I'm doing now, which is being crippled by a certain amount of fear which is prevents me from true living.   I've been so careful, too cautious, because I never really had anyone looking out for me while I was growing up. Maybe now I'm old, and have less to future protect, I can relax a little.  Or maybe I just wish getting on a plane didn't feel like the death penalty, because I have a lot of flying to do this summer.