Off to the races

I got my hopes up.  I told myself I wouldn't do it, but I did.  I've been sidelined from running for about four months by a serious injury (bilateral tibia stress fractures).  I started running again slowly. The Missouri weather wasn't cooperating at first (humid doesn't even begin to describe the hot, sticky, disgustingly heavy air I had to breath at 6 a.m.), but as the weather improved my running improved.  After a couple of months I thought I was back.  I started researching new races, new training strategies and, of course, new running gear.  I even ran a 5k a couple of weekends ago. But then a few days ago I started feeling that pain again.  That sharp stabbing pain in my shin.  I stopped running and tried again the next day.  No doubt about it, the stress fractures are back! More accurately, they never healed.  I'm frustrated about it, but there is nothing I can do.   

About that 5k...let me share a moment.  One of those moments where you laugh at yourself for your foolishness.  And then laugh some more.  I mentioned to some women in the ward that I was running a race sponsored by my neighborhood association.  One woman, who I'm getting to know pretty well, lives just two miles away and said she wanted to run it with me.  I told Chad the night before the race, "I hope _____ doesn't think I'm going to run with her the entire race.  I'm hoping to beat my last 5k time and I don't want to feel like I have to hold anything back on such a short race.  Do you think she will mind?"  Looking back, had I employed just a little common sense I wouldn't have feared.  This woman is at least five years younger than me, at least thirty pounds lighter, and at least four inches taller.  As we walked to the race together she casually mentioned that she use to run track in high school but she hasn't run any races since, though she does go to the gym everyday.  I gave her my little "we're just going to run our own race, right?" in a tactful way and she totally agreed.  Well, we started off together.  Against everything I've learned I started out REALLY FAST.  But so did she.  When I turned the first corner I looked at my watch and it said I was running a 6:15 mile.  What?!?!?  I didn't think I could run that fast ever!.  Problem is, I really can't.  After running the first mile under 7:30 my jets were spent.  And I hadn't seen my friend since that first corner.  I kept looking for her on the side of the road, or maybe I'd passed her and just hadn't seen her?  Well, when I crossed the finish line in exactly the same time I ran a 5K over a year ago, she was sitting with her husband and Chad looking calm and relaxed.  "What happened?" I asked.  "I just ran as hard as I could!  I was in second place for a while, but I ended up in seventh."  So matter of fact.  What?!?!?  Who just runs a race and comes in seventh?  I think she ran in under 22 minutes.  Crazy.  When I looked at Chad I just laughed and confessed to her the conversation I'd had with him the night before. Oh, the vanity.  Me,  worrying about being faster than someone!  It was good for a laugh.  

The same weekend I ran the 5k we attended the St. Louis Hot Air Balloon "Glow."  The night before the annual Hot Air Balloon Race at Forest Park (the biggest park in St. Louis and 50% bigger than Central Park) you can go see the balloons tied to the ground and firing their burners. In our "we just moved here from Ann Arbor population 100,000" attitude, we didn't prepare the magnitude of the event.  We barely, barely found a parking space, walked about 1.5 miles, and then entered a zone that was part carnival, part picnic, part circus.   There were people everywhere!  In fact, we planned to meet some friends there but we couldn't make it happen.  It was pretty dark (until the whistle was blown and all of the balloons fired their burners) and our cell phone wasn't working (I think everything was jammed because all of humanity was there).  Jack was less impressed with the "big balloons" than we imagined.  As a lover of balloons generally we thought he would be thrilled, but the chaos and the big loud hissing flames didn't seem to invoke the memory of the little balloons he likes to toss around at home.  One nice woman did let him hold one of the ropes that keeps the balloons steady.  He loved that.  He could even make the balloon move a little when he really tugged hard.  We watched the fireworks display as we walked to the car because Jack was pooped and we didn't want to fight the THOUSANDS of cars lining the park.  We'll go back next year, but we'll be more prepared.  We're starting to realize that we live in a city, a big city!  And we love it.