This month two of my favorite running link-ups are happening on the same weekend. I will be linking with Marcia’s Healthy Slice for our monthly Runfessions and Coco from Running With Perseverance and Deborah from Confessions of a Mother Runner for their Ultimate Coffee Date. Let’s get started.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you that the “crystal” (our grandsons’ name for Bill’s kidney stone) incident has mercifully come to an end and we have running to thank. Kind of.
Back in December, when Bill was talking to his doctor about the kidney stone, he asked if he could run. His doctor asked what type of running Bill had in mind. Bill began describing the two trail races we had on the schedule. As he was talking, the doctor was shaking his head.
The urologist told Bill he could do short, easy runs but not the three-hour timed race or the 25K we had planned.
Bill decided to come with my friend Nancy and me to the three-hour race and just run “two or three loops“. Each loop was a mile and a half. That sounded reasonable to me.
As we drove to the race, Bill changed his strategy a few times. “I might run every other loop with you and Nancy,” he said. Then, “I’m going to take it easy and just see how it goes.”
I didn’t see Bill the entire race, which I thought was strange, but I found him waiting for me at the finish area when I completed my final loop.
“How many loops did you run?” I asked. “Nine,” he responded.
“Nine? Are you kidding me?“
“I felt good and stopped after every loop for a drink. I’m fine!” he said, noting my horrified expression.
The stone passed (painlessly) that night. I think he may have discovered a new method to get rid of kidney stones. Just run 13.5 miles through the woods.
I have a runfession to share about another January race, Phunt, a 25K trail run I have done several times and enjoy more each successive year.
Bill and I don’t always run together, but for long races, we usually stay pretty close. A 25K is one of those in-between distances. We might run together, we might not.
Bill and I run close to the same pace. At times, his training is going well and he could finish ahead of me; other times the reverse is true. This was one of the times when my training was going well.
On the drive down, I asked Bill if he wanted me to run with him. He said he did.
Now, not running at my maximum pace is not a problem, especially for a trail race I have done before and especially at Phunt; I like to take it easy and savor every wacky, rocky, root-y, moment.
It’s my absolute favorite race of the year but it is definitely not Bill’s favorite race. Bill is a road runner at heart. He does trail races to accommodate me because I love them.
He has done Phunt twice before.
Let me say this as diplomatically as possible: during both of the previous times we ran Phunt together, Bill let me know in no uncertain terms he was not having the time of his life.
I saw an opportunity to make a deal. “I will run with you if you promise not to complain about Phunt,” I said. “I enjoy this race.” “Deal,” he replied. We ran together.
I actually think it was easy for him to keep his promise. The conditions for the race were perfect and we both had a good time.
It’s a good thing he finally felt the Phunt magic, at least a little bit; we already registered for the 2021 version of the race.
I have one last runfession and this one is rather embarrassing. Strike that, this is extremely embarrassing.
Actually, this is a Body Pump-fession.
Regular readers of this blog may remember I take Body Pump classes as my form of strength training. I enjoy them immensely.
The class I typically attend begins at 9:15 a.m. and consists of mostly women. At that time of day, there are two types of women in the class, retirees and young mothers. I, of course, belong to the former group.
I have to admit to a certain amount of pride I derive from being able to keep up with the younger women in the class, even though “humility” is the word I adopted to consider in 2020.
Two weeks ago, we began a new routine, one that involved doing squats while holding an 11-pound metal plate parallel to the ground at chest level.
As we were sweating through our squats, our instructor told us to begin lifting the plate above our heads when we squatted, just as a new, more exquisite form of torture.
The first time I lifted the plate above my head, I must have been holding it too close to my face, because I clocked myself on the underside of my nose.
I saw stars.
I was sure my nose was bleeding but a quick check in the mirror told me otherwise and I resumed the squats, mortified, but not bloody.
As a result of the incident, I developed bruises on the inside edges of both nostrils.
When I mentioned how self-conscious those bruises made me, Bill responded that he hardly noticed them. I think he was trying to make me feel better.
“How can you not notice them?” I asked.
“Honey, people will probably just think you have boogers,” he replied.
Thanks, Bill. You always know exactly what to say.
Thank you for joining me once again for coffee and runfessions. We’ll do it again next month, good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.