The Learning Tree

The sky a blanket of grey; the rain misty.  The air is cool on my face.  After sleeping in a bit and enjoying a morning with my boys, I left for my run a bit later than I typically do on a Saturday morning.  Ankle recovery isn't all bad.

The neighborhood begins to hum.  Saturday plans begin to unfold in each home. My pace is easy. I round a corner and The Learning Tree comes into view.  A massive oak tree with branches straight up to heaven. 

Years ago I nick named this oak The Learning Tree. Each year as spring begins to kiss winter away, parent eagles will use this tree to teach their young to hunt.  A young eagle will be found in its branches while the parents swoop down on rabbits and squirrels and critters in the surrounding field.  An impressive sight that never tires.

No eagles teaching this morning.

My hope is to run 7 miles, the longest since twisting my bad ankle (again).  The weather is world's apart from last week and the excitement shows in my step.  I am happy to be out running with no snow, no ice, no wind.  I make my way to my favorite country road.  A road with beautiful views and rolling hills.  This will be a good test of my ankle.

I've gone a quarter of a mile and another runner pops out from a long driveway.  She waves and turns away from me.  A runner with beautiful form and impressive speed.  I watch as she turns down a private road. 

A mother-daughter duo emerge walking from their property and onto the road.  It isn't long before I catch up to them.  I do my best not to startle them and we wish each other a beautiful morning.  The birds sing, we all smile.  A beautiful morning indeed.
 
Looking ahead I see people gathered at a mailbox.  Neighbors being neighborly.  As I approach I hear "CHERIIIIII!!!" and the older gentlemen holds out his to give me a high five.  I give him a high five.

"Steve!  I wondered if I'd see you today!"

"CHERI!!!" a familiar voice calls.

I turn to see the people Steve talking with and discover my cousin Ted and his daughter Olivia.  They live up the road and were out talking a walk.   We laugh at the realization we all know each other.

Steve, being retired, has more free time now to do things he likes to do and that includes running.   The first time I ran with Steve was on that country road.  Two runners sharing the same road and a bond cements.  We chat for a bit before he says he needs to go so his wife doesn't worry.  Ted, Olivia and I carry on and it isn't long and we all part ways.

Unexpected encounters interject fun into my run.  I am smiling.  The highest hill of the road is fast approaching.  The house half way up the hill is still not finished.  How long has it been?  2 years?  3 years?  There is always progress, yet it remains incomplete.  I've decided the owner is building it and doing it with his own funds.  What I do know for certain is the house will be a stunning work of art.  The new wrap around porch makes me long for summer days.  The views they will have will be amazing.

3 1/2 miles in I turn around and head back toward home.  As I crest the hill again, I look toward my favorite vista to see the low hanging grey clouds have concealed it's beauty.  It's ok, I'm out here.  And running.  I am happy.

The fields are a yellow-green brought on by winter.  Soon it will give way to the lush green of spring.  Water is running in the ditches and through the culverts.  It's melody of a creek.  I see where the land gave way sliding into the ditch; another reminder of the harshness of last week.
 
Branches are strewn everywhere.  The Great Silver Thaw, Snowmageddon and wind storms snapped branches off the grandest of trees.  Tall evergreens stand like wounded warriors.  Their massive branches broken and lying on the ground.  The sight makes me awestruck with the power of last week's storm.

The Learning Tree comes back into view and with it the unmistaken sound of eagle chatter.  A young eagle is perched atop of the mighty oak.  Although I can not find them, the parent eagles are close by watching from a row of evergreen trees.  Their instruction was clear and the eagle dives toward the field.  Breakfast is served.

My run complete, I open the door to the smell of eggs and toast.  I smile.

Grey Flannel

Grey Flannel.  The early morning darkness didn't conceal what I could not see.  The sky looked like a large, solid sheet of grey flannel.  Rain so fine it fell as a mist; tree tops outlined as though one was peering through a whisper thin fog.  Taking one last sip from my water bottle, I set it on the concrete bench nestled in the corner of the patio.  I hit the start button on my Garmin.

As I am recovering from a sprained ankle, I take it easy and start with a brisk walk.  Leaving the cul-de-sac, I make my way onto one of only two roads into our neighborhood.  The morning is quiet.  I hear a raccoon scamper up a large pine tree, in which it conceals the visitor with it's massive branches.  I begin to run for a distance.  My ankle feels good.

A neighbor passes me on their way to work.  Although in the darkness I can not see him, I know he is smiling and waving as he drives by so I do the same; his headlights lighting up my refelctive jacket making me stick out in stark contrast to my surroundings. 

I walk for a short distance before continuing my run allowing my ankle to warm up.  The misty rain is thicker now as I run along the roadside.  There is a spot on my foot that is making me very aware of its presence.  For three weeks I convinced myself it was sore from the sprain, but now I am looking at the reality it could be more.

I struggle with calling the orthopedic doctor.

Nearing the turn around I slow again to a walk.  Nature is quiet and I try to get my head to be the same.  Too many thoughts, too many questions, too much nagging going on in my foot.  I turn it over to God.

The road that takes me home is colored black from the rain.  The neighborhood begins to waken; kitchen lights glow lending proof the day is beginning for some.    My run ends and I stop my watch.  I stand for a moment on the back patio, listening to the quiet, and feeling the rain.  The misty rain feels soft against my skin, just like the softness of a grey flannel sheet.  

Rest In Peace Mad Woman

The Mad Woman is dead; may she rest in peace and never come back to haunt me. 

I, with unabandoned excitment, went for a run this morning!  Actually, it was more of a walk/run/walk/run and it felt great.  The alarm rang and in an instant I was out of the bed and putting on my running clothes.  Within minutes, I was out the door and testing the strength in my ankle.

Thus, the Mad Woman had to die.  With each gentle step I took, I was digging her grave deeper and deeper.  With the ability of being able to run returning, I am no longer feeling like a mad woman with pent up energy wanting to pull out my hair.

Running helps me sleep better. 

Running helps me feel better. 

Running gives me energy. 
Running keeps me sane. 

This is why I have missed it so.  My sanity comes in the form of shoe laces being tied at 5 a.m.  This morning my walk/run took place in the rain, but I didn't care.  I was out there and I was running.

Now to work on that Ankle Dictator.  I am hoping to carve his name next; underneath that of the Mad Woman's.

Diary of Mad Woman : Part 3 ~ Bald With Flippers

I'm bald; as in baby-butt-smooth bald.  I should be anyway.  Actually, it's a miracle I'm not.  Running has been my stress reliever since I started it in 2004. Entering into day 16 of no running, it's remarkable and noteworthy that I have not yet pulled out all my hair.

Someone buy me a stocking cap just in case.

My husband and I will be spending the weekend in Seattle.  His work is throwing a company-wide party celebrating their Centennial year in business.  Normally one to love a good hob-knobbing, this one struck a chord of anxiety within me.  How in the world does one wear party attire and not wear heels?  The Ankle Dictator smirks at me.


The human population calls the appendages at the bottom of their legs "feet".  I, on the other hand, call mine flippers.  God blessed me with a very wide foot which is an incredible advantage when it comes to scuba diving.  I don't scuba dive.  

The high heeled shoes I do find are relatively comfortable on my flippers; however, throw in a sprained ankle and no designer creates shoes that wide.  My running shoes (which I'm fortunate enough to be able to wear to my job while being injured) will somehow not cut it with party attire.

Such are my life contemplations this week while being injured.  Normally I'd run to solve this world-coming-to-an-end problem,  but we all know that's as possible as me getting my swollen left flipper into a high heeled shoe.  Enter in the pulling out of my hair.

If you are at The Westin in downtown Seattle on Saturday night look for me.  I'll be the woman in party attire, wearing a stocking cap and running shoes. 

And I'll look hot.

Diary of A Mad Woman : Part 2

The Ankle Dictator and I are in a stare down; each waiting to call the other's bluff.  Unfortunately, I am not bluffing and he isn't joking so we continue to stare at each other.  It's a waiting game and I wait impatiently for him to flinch.  Maybe I should flirt with him.

Oh the Ankle Dictator thinks he can trick me.  He brought me a gift that he thought I'd love; wrapping it up in fancy little paper with a great big bow thinking I'd be impressed.  Cleverly gifted was the promise of sleeping in.  One would think the gift of extra sleep would be welcomed and I won't lie, the first day or two the Ankle Dictator snagged me hook, line, and sinker.  Not anymore.  While in training and after 4 days of hard running, I'd earned a day off of running therefore allowing me to sleep in.  Oh how sweet that day was.  Now that I have them every day, they aren't so sweet - more like the sweetness of a sour patch kid.

After a week of snow, ice and finally rain, we were blessed with a day of the most incredible sunshine and blue skies.  I'd look out my window and every thought was consumed with how it was incredibly perfect running weather.  I cursed the Ankle Dictator.  As my sprained left foot is needed for the clutch in the car,  I couldn't even drive my convertible.  Sigh.  I bought a latte instead.  It made sense at the time.

Saturday morning I wouldn't have to get up early to meet my friends for a high mileage run, leaving me with the freedom to make plans for Friday night.  We invited our friends Suzanne, Jim, Karen & Tim over for a friendly (?) game of Pit.  Not one of us could remember the last time we had laughed that hard, each declaring our abs were getting the best workout they'd ever had.  We rediscovered cheek muscles and the next morning they were still sore. 

The Ankle Dictator and I continue our stare down; but I will take my laughter-induced sore abs and cheeks and begin a new workout.   And I will workout hard in hopes to gain some of the endorphins running gives me.  When the sore muscles come, I will sharpen my stare at the Ankle Dictator and when he least expects it, I will wink at him.  Hopefully it'll fluster him enough to forget about my ankle.

Diary of A Mad Woman : Part 1

It is 5 days removed from spraining my ankle, 5 days of no running, and I am still alive.  Amazingly I haven't killed anyone either; that could be in part that everyone can out run me right now, but let's attribute it to my incredible self-restraint shall we?

The Ankle Dictator has been pretty quiet, not jabbing my ankle every time I move.  The trick, I discovered, is sitting on the couch with my foot up.  This alone is an accomplishment worthy of marathon-finish line proportions.  Never have I sat still for this long.  Who would've thought that rest really does work?  Each day I've been able incorporate more and more into my day letting me know that my ankle is doing much better in it's recovery this time around than it did in 2008.

Mr. Meany Pants visited me the other day.  Dressed all in brown, he hopped out of the big brown box truck he drives and had the cruel audacity to bring to me the Running Warehouse package I had ordered before I sprained my ankle.  Can you believe the nerve of some people?  Although I will say I look forward to the day I can break in this bad boy.  Saucony's ViziPro will make me light up in the dark without having to wear my jacket.  It even comes with a flashing light on the sleeve.  This satisfies my gadget geekiness (<---- that is a word now).

I'm planning the exercises I will be able to do that do not involve my ankle.  This has proved a little trickier than anticipated; even some of the weight set exercises require me to brace my body with my feet and ankles.  As it gets stronger I'll be able to incorporate more and more.

Today I'm planning on an intense upper body workout ~ I am painting my oldest son's room.  Oh come on now, did you really think I'd sit still all day?

 

Curve Balls & Laundry Baskets

One can plan out an entire year of racing, down to the minute detail and it can all get tossed up in the air by a laundry basket.  Strange to think that something that has absolutely nothing to do with running can bring my exercise regime to a screeching halt.


The Villian - doesn't it look evil?

It is hard to say what happened, as I really am not sure what did.  I do know I casually leaped over the laundry basket (AKA The Villian), easily clearing all 18 inches of it. 
The next moment I am on the ground in pain. 

Golf ball or ankle?

And where my ankle is suppose to be I find a golf ball.  The ground has become my friend as I am having a difficult time standing up.  In an instant I knew, I just knew, this golf ball size lump has sucked every moment from my near-future runs.  I lived through this in 2008 when I had a severe sprain, on the same ankle, and was side-lined for 6 weeks.

Here I sit on my sofa, my foot wrapped and propped up on pillows.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sad.  It's disheartening to look at your personal goals and know that they are put on hold.  The Ankle Dictator will be in control for awhile; as much as I despise him, I have to play this smart and listen to him.  My spring marathons have been taken off the schedule and my June schedule is questionable. 

There are blessings in this that I recognize, and for that I am grateful.  In order not to have Christmas gifts put on credit all my race fees were put on hold until February.  So although running them has been taken out of my schedule, I am not out of race fees.

My boys have been wonderful, making sure I can stay put and have my foot up.  It is a wonderful thing as a parent when you receive affirmation of your parenting with the kindness and care they show during times like this.  They will make wonderful husbands.

When my sadness took the form of tear drops, my husband shared the heartbreak with me.  Not many women have empathy like that in their spouse, I am blessed.

Being taken off running is not the end of the world and is not the worst thing that could happen to me.  Right now I need to realign my goals and once I can wrap my head around them, my focus will sharpen.  However right now, I am sad.  And that is ok.