Patience; the new endurance sport.

Anyone remember Shrinky Dinks?  They were thick plastic sheets you colored on, then cut out the figures, then stuck them in the oven, and then they shrank to about half their original size?  Well, that's what my hamstrings do in the cold. I go outside, and it's as if they retract, completely. I focused the whole run on my stride, and controlled upper body torque.  The posture sure helps the hip, but it's hard to remember to stay in form.  I did the bike for 1 hour yesterday, and will have to do it again tommorrow morning to keep the hip in check.  I want to visit my Uncle (the chiopracter) one more time, and let one more week go by before getting the cortisone shots.  I don't want to do it. But it's wrong inside that hip, and has been since three days before St. George Marathon.  I saw my hawk today again on the trail.  We looked at each other for a while.  He was in the treetops, closer to the house than the lake.  After a few mintues he spread those huge wings and took off, soaring over the pasture to some far off trees. He's so beautiful.  It reminds me of a song....

I wish  I could be like a bird in the sky
how sweet it would be if I found  I could fly
Oh I'd soar up to the sun and look down at the sea
and I'd sing 'cause I'd know how it feels to be free -- Nina Simone

I did an hour on the stationary bike yesterday morning, and then walked an extra two miles in the evening.  Catherine brought new episodes of Alias-- and while I find the whole thing preposterous and the show never appealed to me when it was airing--I find running on the treadmill a breeze while I'm watching it.  I sailed through 5 miles this morning and everytime I mentally checked in on my posture I was doin' fine.  My hip, with the exception of stretching that hamstring twice today, feels pretty good. I hope to get in 6 on Saturday.  Catherine's come back to my side of the trail. Yay.  I've only got 2 more choir practices before the Christmas perfomance. I love to sing, and they let me sing, they don't even complain very much about my singing. But I promsie you I am the loudest, worst singer, in the whole group (of about 100).  Isn't it sad? Because we all know the WORST singer, is also the LOUDEST.  It's the one singer that makes it so you can't hear anyone else singing.  So there I stand on that back row with a supremely voiced soprano-- her angelic throaty aria carrying the heavy melody into the heavens-- while I stand at her side screetching out a descant -- and smiling like a cheshire cat.       

I ran 4 on the trail with Cath in the most amzingly wintery bluster. Tiny sharp snow shards cuttinginto our eyeballs at like 40 mph.  Poor Catherine had a cold anyway, it was a miserable run.  In addition, Catherine won't be running for a good while, so it was sad her last one was such misery. I came home and did another 2 on the treadmill while it poured snow the rest of the morning.