Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Now that was out of the blue
Life can take you in different directions in a flash and in quite unexpected ways. At times, it will come completely out of left field and you just have to adjust the best you can and roll with it.
That happened to me twice in the span of three days regarding Thanksgiving. I think something sinister is about.
Sure it seems coincidental enough. When I started working out in September for the Turkey Trot, the last thing I expect was a hamstring injury that would bug me until now. Working out with Adam the Terminator Monday evening, there it was again. As the sun started settling along the trees in light rain near the TREC the pain returned. It had been just fine but I hurt it Saturday running before I took off for Ohio.
I iced it Sunday and thought everything was better but it was hurting enough Monday to force the Terminator and I back to the TREC in a slow walk. After telling him not running the Turkey Trot was not an option, he suggested that I take the rest of the week off and I should even consider not running again until the race itself.
What? Nothing? Nada? Zippo?
“You should be happy that I’m telling you not to run,” the Terminator said with a laugh that almost sounded like Arnold. “You’ve got the mileage in. You’ve already done a 5K so you know you can do the distance. You’ll be fine.”
Little did he know, over the weekend, I got the worse news of Thanksgiving. Saturday night, my brother Greg from Texas called me out of the blue. Greg is a computer techie for Marathon Oil near Houston. He and his twin brother Gordon, two of the best brothers anyone could ever have, just had a birthday, but more on that later. Greg is one of the best persons and fathers that I know. What I do for my wonderful Washington D.C. lobbyist daughter pales to the father he is. He and his wife Wayna raised a niece Nikki who grew up to be a wonderful young woman.
Nikki is now married and living in Laurel, Md. Do you know what they did? Sinister, I tell ya. Greg announced that his family will be flying to Laurel for Thanksgiving and now he will come out and SEE THE TURKEY TROT!
Noooo! I wasn’t supposed to have family from Texas involved. I was partly doing this race for the sadistical enjoyment of Ashley, her boyfriend and a bunch of people who don’t know me. I don’t need this embarrassment spreading around Texas like a wildfire.
Why can’t he just come over to Thanksgiving dinner, eat all the food and steal the last turkey leg? That fate would be much better than him watching me die on the vine in near the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum during the Turkey Trot.
I could have told him the race was moved to Seattle, Washington from Washington, D.C. Since I’ve blogging about this freaking thing since September, posting it on Facebook and all, I quickly realized it would be impossible to cover my tracks. Besides, Greg was the track star in the family in high school and the fear of him putting on his shorts, entering the race cold to blow me away just for family bragging rights has crossed my mind.
Now the Terminator is telling me no running until the race? Man, I’m desperate here. I gotta do so something.
Any other time, I would have just been happy beating my Dayton Dash time considering the situation. Now with Texas family here, I’ve gotta come up with a plan. Maybe I can stop Thanksgiving from coming? Ok, too much like the Grinch. That idea’s been taken, without too much success if you remember.
So, this evening I’ll start weightlifting and whatever else I can do while trying hard to obey the Terminator’s orders. If I would have listened to him the first time and knocked off in early October I wouldn’t still be dealing with the hammy, but that’s another story for another blog. So Aleve will become my drug of choice and constant companion. I wonder what’s the street value for Aleve on the streets of D.C.? I wonder how many Aleve junkies I’ll find on the corner, trying to lure me down a dark alley with a blue and white bottle. “C’mon man. I got the Aleve that will set you free, man. Don’t you hear Eli Lilly calling your name?”
Oh, what we do for brotherly love.