“Hey McFly….” Watch out for the Tide!

I am standing beneath Crimson Chrysalis belaying my climbing buddy on the first of 9 pitches.  He manuevers himself sixty feet above me while I flex my fingers around the rope and slowly feed him more as he inches upward.  The Nevada heat radiates off the rock and I shift my stance to create a bit of air movement.  I feel a tickle on my foot and glance down to investigate my Tevas.  Perhaps it is the bubblegum colored nail polish that has attracted the bee that crawls all over my toes.  I gently wiggle them hoping this bee will flee.  Allergic to bees, I glance at a back pack containing my epi-pen that lies far from reach.  Even if I could obtain it, I would not be able to release the rope ensuring my friend’s protection in order to grab and administer the shot.

I watch the little bee.  He crawls under my arch and scoots around between my foot and the insoles of my sandal.  I exhale long and slow focusing on my friend.  Instead of panic, I become a serene statue calmly intent on the task at hand.  When it becomes my turn to climb, I exhibit the best climb of my life.  Gracefully, I approach my friend who is impressed at my performance.  I credit the bee for bringing me Zen.

There has been a subtle festering “issue” in my right shin and foot for more than six weeks now.  After Saturday’s run, I noticed a silver dollar sized bruise over the trouble spot.  This morning at track, I felt a new pain seeping into the back of my lower leg digging down deep.  T2 accompanied me on my first 2400 meters.  Easily, we perfectly hit the numbers.  My mind bounced between focusing on running with Tim(2) and evaluating the weather in my leg.  Next, I ran a solo mile nailing the numbers again: 5:31.  Three laps into my second 2400 meters, my right shoe laces came completely untied.  Although I faithfully double knot, the little Houdini’s wiggled themselves free- wha-la!

My mind found itself at the bottom of Crimson Chrysalis.  Perhaps there is little Zen to be extracted from disobedient shoe strings, but I did remind myself to focus.  I was one second slow per lap and Rusty released me from a final 800 meters.  I never like being cut short even if I need it.  “That’s enough Drea,” Rusty instructed.  I watched T1 run his 800 meters and then I jumped in on his final 100 meter stretch to enjoy pretending to whip his butt for once.  Everything was good fun until I began my cool down.  The leg had words of pain to share with me.  I argued with it, pleaded with it, tried to ignore, and eventually stopped to stretch it and walk to my car.

Marathoning is like building castles out of sand.  I can build the best damn castle that I have ever created.  It can be a gorgeous replica of Hayward Field with Prefontaine gargoyles guarding the south tower housing Kara as Rupenzel, but if the tide comes in early, all I am left with is a big pile of wet coulda-woulda-shoulda sand.  Running is not just one foot in front of the other.  Do I run to live or live to run?

I realize my goals are my dreams and that I am obsessed.  A shocking truth considering that I do not have an addictive personality [cue card the laughter and applause].  I am more of a fighter than a lover and my favorite person to pick on is myself.  In Texas, I laid upon the floor with ice on my legs fretting my performances to one of my sisters.  “You have to believe in yourself,” she exclaimed.

“Oh! I do.  Trust me, I am my biggest fan,” I retaliated.  She laughed through confirming words like some good southern Baptist, “That’s the truth!”  I was not insulted.  I do not run for anyone, but myself.  I am therefor my biggest fan and my biggest critic.

Anxiety sets in at the notion of an injury that I cannot control.  The tide creeps toward my castle.  That little bee scurries over my feet and sneaks into my soul.  Please do not sting me bee.  Please waves stay out to sea.

I put in my scheduled elliptical time and found myself Tyson-ing out aggression.  I did not care who stared or wondered what the hell I was doing.  If the elliptical was a broom stick, I would have flown off on it.  At the conclusion of my eliptitherapy, a baggie t-shirt housing a man approached me.  “I have never seen anyone go so crazy on a machine before!”  He met my eyes with wonder.

“Maybe I’m just crazy,” I replied and then laughed that sort of she-is-on-the-edge cackle while my eyes wide with abandonment sought his out.  I cleaned off my machine as he decisively looked me over.  As I left, I noticed him re-clean the equipment.

I guess he did not want to catch crazy.

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~ by Drea on May 18, 2010.

10 Responses to ““Hey McFly….” Watch out for the Tide!”

  1. Sounds to me like you are going to have to start picking up more dinosaurs…

  2. Drea–cool post. I feel your pain… I broke my toe on Monday, in the house, while pacing around while on a work phone call. Lame. Now I can’t run or bike or even walk! Ouch. You precisely captured what I feel, too, whether or not I’m “training” or competing (which I’m not right now….I’m just doing it for “fun.” Hmmm.

    • Argh! So sorry to hear about your toe. Amazing how we actually need these little forgettful beings sprouting off our forefoot. I hope it heals up quick! Come join me in pilates, no toes required 🙂

  3. When do you do pilates? I have been doing pilates for about 15 months now…I love it. Where and when, I’ll certainly join!!

    • Tuesday am at 9:20 at the YMCA on hitchcock. Where do you go/ when, perhaps I could join you too?

  4. Drea,
    I go to Paseo Pilates on DeLaGuerra. The class I go to now is a circuit class (on the reformers and some other equipment) from 5:30-6:30PM ON Monday nights. They also do a circuit class on Thursday at lunchtime, which I have never gone to, but I might try tomorrow since i haven’t been able to do my other exercise this week. Let me know if you want to go! It’s really fun. We start out with 15 minutes of mat warmup and then transition to the equipment and switch stations every 3 minutes.

  5. Drea–sounds good. Let’s do it next week! I’ll find out the exact time and let you know!

    k.

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