Running In Place

I am getting reaquainted with the fine art of porch sitting. Refamiliarizing myself with the feel of the Adirondack rocking chair, the sound of the windchimes, the birds at the feeder (who are, in turn, getting used to me - the voyeur - intently watching their business). The chickadees are here, the cowbirds, woodpeckers, red winged black birds, and a few blue jays (that will soon turn into many many blue jays). I love to listen to their songs of romance and watch their interpretive dances. They scatter easily now, my slightest move sends them away - but soon they won’t pay me any notice. I’ll become familiar, like the furniture I sit on. A piece of furniture with a laptop. And a beer. The most anxiously awaited arrival, the hummingbirds, will be here in not too long. But that’s a whole ‘nother post.

So here we are, two dogs and myself - lounging, watching birds, smelling spring even though there’s no buds on the trees. Knowing it’s here even though it’ll go below the freezing mark again tonight, and it’s not unimaginable that we would have another snowfall - or even snowstorm. Junior (my large, unwieldy cat) joins us periodically. He sits on the windowsill behind my right shoulder and, through the screen, has a spot-on look-but-don’t-touch view of the birds. This is only temporarily interesting to a 16 lb. cat who gets lifted up onto the cabinet where his food bowl is by my son. I do not condone this coddling, especially when I am busy in the bathroom with some beautification process (problem) and Junior - a mere few feet south of his food - hollers at me in an insistent and decidedly entitled tone, to hoist him to his meal. I don’t think his natural prey have much to worry about, unless they are inclined to seek him out during one of his frequent naps, pry his mouth open, and wedge themselves between his teeth. Otherwise, there’s not much danger of being eaten. Still, since Junior might actually get motivated enough to walk the hundred or so feet to the road, a cat behind bars he will remain.

Today we got a new roof put on the cabin. The dogs were alternately ferocious and terrified, depending on the amount of noise that was being made, poor sad guinea pig was too nervous to eat his lettuce, Junior was unconcerned. At the risk of sounding lascivious, watching 5 shirtless (younger than me) guys in low slung Levis doing manly things like lifting and tearing and hammering and hauling, was a great way to spend the day. Much like with the birds at the feeder, I tried to observe surrepticiously - keeping in mind my own interpretation of the Prime Directive. No binoculars, no flash photography, minimal cat calls.

It was recently suggested to me that I might be experiencing a mid-life crisis. Crisis? Or, awakening. Swim lessons, groovy new bike, new-old job (back at Hospice - more on that later), topless guys in my yard.

It must be spring.

Gol, where did a freakin’ month go! You know what’s cool about life? Some times, probably more times than we even realize, we can change our minds. We can go down a road, say OOPS, take a U-turn or off ramp onto another road and take in the new scenery.

Way back when, about a month ago, as I lamented my apparent inability to run more than a few steps without enflaming some malady and contemplated my personal unthinkable - crosstraining, Pem commented regarding a consideration of triathlon. Now, I’d followed a few tri-blogs and was all full of admiration for the whole gig but I would never - ever - contmeplate that tri-ing was right for me because:
A) I am attached to the feeling that I don’t really like riding a bike. I get insanely nervous when cars go by, I pop the chain about every other time that I shift gears, and I think it hurts a whole helluva lot more than running! — and –
2) I’m a little scared of water. Not in a diagnosably phobic kind of way but in a way that has produced enough anxiety over time that I haven’t tolerated much more than some horesing around with my nieces in my sis’s 4 foot pool.

So there’s a couple of reasons why it would never never no no not appeal to me to broaden my horizons into the multisport direction. And then, Pem said what she said when she said it, and it was some strange exact moment when hmmmm came to mind rather then feh. I can’t explain it.

To put this in perspective, I’m not quite ready to call myself a triathlete yet - or even a potential triathlete. There’s a little Begin At The Beginning housekeeping that I have to do - like buy a bike. And learn to swim.

So yesterdayI jumped in head first! I took my first swimming lesson. I swam across the shallow end of the pool with my face in the water and only minimal flailing. I’m not ready to ride the riptide just yet but it’s a start.

–AND–

I bought THIS! On a whim, I walked into the local bike shop and allowed myself to be taken by the hand. Dennis talked to me alot about my goals and motivations and in the end, for the little I know about it all, I think I chose a bike that speaks more to my future plans than my present status but - at least in theory - I will be loath to let a bike like this languish in the garage.

My knee is such that I have finally felt comfortable to start running again, so I’ve gotten a couple short & easies in with no knee pain - Yay! And I’ve optimistically registered for the Boilermaker because if nothing else I’ll still do my damndest to be a runner.

In the end, I’m excited about these new challenges and feeling great about facing my fears. Last night I could hardly get to sleep I was so high from swimming across the pool with my face in the water! In the forefront of my mind is the hope that the non-running will ultimately make me a better (less injured, anyway) runner, but floating around in the back is the not yet fully formed notion that this might just be the beginning of a great adventure.