Upswing

Bolder, Alejandra - thanks for the get well wishes. I think you're right, Bold, my lack of extreme sympathy (I was sympathetic but it was tainted with smugness) at your earlier illness resulted in bad karma which led to this debilitating misfortune. Please forgive me. Ok, I feel better now.

I was feeling well enough to go for a "recovery run" (read short - 3 miles - and SSLLOOOOOWWW) this morning. It felt good. Except for the fact that Hubby, who chose this morning to finally grace me with his running presence, was running switchbacks up the hill to allow me to keep up with him. Isn't this akin to running circles around your running partner? Was it out of line for me to snap at him "Just run ahead of me, already?" He was, in his words, "trying to be supportive". OK, hon, I get that. Love you and all that, but CRAP.

Let me just state, for the record, that I am a slow runner (and swimmer and cyclist/faller). It is very difficult for me to come to terms with my slowness. I sort of look fast. I'm tall, relatively lean. I look like I could kick butt. But, alas, looks are deceiving and this fast looking tall, lanky chic regularly gets passed by wheezing old men. It was even more difficult to deliberately slow down (shouldn't I be trying to go faster?) to complete base training at a USAT approved heart rate. NAZIS!!! Sorry, I don't know where that came from. The bright side of that dark, dark tunnel is that my heart rate has come down enough that I can maintain a "recovery heart rate", like this morning, and still continue to actually move forward. Its still very hard on the old pride to shuffle up the hill while everyone else zooms past but at least I'm not breathing hard. The wheezing men still pass me but at least I have enough breath to yell curses at them as they pass. Not that I would. But I could. If I wanted to. Which I don't.

ANYWAY - this all brings me back to Switchback Boy (which he shall hereafter be called) who, absolutely inadvertently and with the utmost intentions of love, completely humiliated me, his beloved, on our short and torrid morning run. This is a life lesson for me. I know this. I have to learn to acknowledge, accept and embrace my shortcomings. It would just be easier if I had fewer of them.