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.

Falling Snow

The slider door closes behind me.  All is quiet.  Snowflakes fall softly from the heavens.  The ground is white now in color and makes the darkness less deep.  I press the start on my Garmin and begin my run.

The world seems asleep and silent; my breathing the only sound I hear.  Far off in the distance I see a car traveling down the road but I do not hear it.  The morning is incredibly peaceful.  A neighbor cautiously drives by and their headlights reveal what I could already feel; snow was lazily falling.

My footprints leave the only evidence of my trail.  The displaced snow on the country road I am running tell me a few of my neighbors have left for work.  The snow laden clouds part for a whisper showing me the bright quarter moon they conceal. 

Snow rests atop a mailbox perched on a weathered cedar fence post.  The fence had come down over time with a few sections still remaining.  Nails rusted past their usefulness leave cedar beams hanging precariously along the field’s edge.  The snow clings to it trying to cover the age of the fence with the newness of white.

A rabbit hopping through a field catches my eye.  He stops and watches me.   He blends in perfectly to his surroundings.  My footfalls startle a duck sleeping in the rain filled ditch and he takes to flight.  He in turn has startled me.  Within seconds I have lost sight of him in the pre-dawn morning.

At the turn around point I reverse my steps to head back for home.  Not wanting the run to end I decide to add another mile despite knowing the rest of my morning will be pressed for time.  The snow falls heavier now.  Looking down I see my footprints made at the start of my run.  I follow them feeling as if I am running in the faintest of echos.

I run to the back yard, finishing my run while pressing the stop button on my Garmin.  Drinking my water, I stand silently outdoors.  The world seemingly pauses with me, and for a brief moment the only thing being done is the watching of falling snow.