Yesterday, from everything I read, was national run day…or something like that. For the record, I did not. I did not run outside. I did not run on New Guinea. No run at all for me. And I’m okay with that.
This is by no means an invitation to a pity party, but after the sixty mile cancer walk I was still chilled to the bone, but more importantly my hip was whimpering and my ankle was screaming. Same side even! Despite staying off my feet for most of Monday (I did laundry – you would not believe the stink of 12 pairs of well-used socks!) I couldn’t even contemplate a run on Tuesday; not even the quiet and small 25 minutes I had on the schedule. Speaking of the schedule, I don’t know what made me think I could return to the run only two days after sixty miles of untrained walking. True, I ended the walk without blisters but my feet were bruised and my ankles were the size of tennis balls. Truth be told, I know I was too optimistic about Monday’s recovery time. I should have listened to myself.
On Tuesday pain still bit into my ankle and nibbled at my hip, though nowhere near as hard. After a serious discussion with all interested parties me, myself and moi decided it was in our best interest to extend the timeout for another day. On National Run Day my hips, knees and ankles stood around while my arms and core got a quick workout. All good!
But tonight! Tonight I think we can give It a go. Tonight will be a small return to the run. The menu: we begin with an amuse bouche of upper body work (day 2 of a 30 day challenge), followed by the main course – a simple, straightforward progressive run of 25 minutes. Dessert is runner’s yoga, concentrating on hips and back. We finish with an aperitif of coconut yogurt. No drama.
But! But. But, speaking of drama. By now Caitlyn Jenner has come out. That’s Bruce’s new name, right? It’s been a couple of days since the story broke. I expected every newsstand in the country to be plastered with her face. Last night Kisa and I went to the grocery store for pureed pumpkin for my breakfast (don’t ask) and as soon as we walked in I noticed every news rack of every checkout aisle was completely void of tabloid material. Not a single scandalous rag to be seen. No Inquirer. No US Weekly. Not even People. Later, I perused the magazine section. No Vanity Fair. No New Yorker. Not even past issues. More importantly, Caitlyn’s face was nowhere. Seeing all those empty racks was unusual to the point of eerie. As M+R used to say, “how bizarre!”