Sunday, February 14, 2016

I think I forgot to say...

Ben, birthday girl, and Joe
At only seven years old, I hope I will be forgiven for skipping some things. I took a little break while considering the blogger's "age-old" question: Do I still have something to say? (Age-old is in quotes because blogging of course isn't that old.) I don't think anyone wants to read random odds and ends or too much along the lines of "I took a trip to Pittsburgh and had a great time" or "I went to the doctor and got some news."

But I gathered some thoughts and here I am now on a -11 degree morning happy to have Joe home for the weekend even though I didn't see him that much, liking the sight of his car in the driveway, and enjoying having had Chinese food with him last night while we sat in the den in our usual places
with Maddie's head on my lap, and then even braving the 1-degree night to drive down the road to the Dockside to hear the band Midlife Crisis.

I forgot to write about how sweet it is that my children get me an age-appropriate birthday candle, and how we had a nice festive party in Fairfield and how I loved holding Nell, who was wearing the cute Hannah Anderson dress that I got her for Hanukkah. And how my donor, Denise, sent me an email with seven exclamation points in the subject line.

On another topic, I told someone not too long ago that, even though I do so many activities, I miss the feeling that I got from running. That person didn't understand, but I'm sure that runners know what I mean. I was never a high-mileage runner, but I was consistent and able to get my runner's high from just three miles a few days a week and then a six- or seven-miler on the weekend. I automatically put the "just" in there, because it is a runner's thing, when talking to others who run more, to put a "just" in front of our mileage. For example, I remember sitting across from my friend Diane Lederman at the paper, and, knowing how far she usually ran, reporting that I had "just" run five or six miles.

I dreamt that I changed my stride and was running on the balls of my feet instead of landing so heavily on my toes (which I believe is the reason that one big toe hurts after running). When I was in Pittsburgh, I talked to Emily's husband, Mike, as I usually do, about various exercise-related topics. He said he also had had a toe problem and had switched to Hoka sneakers that are built up in the back so that you roll onto your toes instead of coming down hard on them. I said I worried that a switch might aggravate my plantar fasciitis, but he said it had not bothered his.

So Emily and I took a walk to a nice local shoe store, Little's, in Squirrel Hill, and I bought a pair. The next day was relatively warm, so I took an easy jog for probably a mile and a half. My stride had changed, meaning my dream had come true! The next morning I could feel my toe a little, but Mike said that was not a reliable sign because a lot of things hurt before you get going. Sure enough, later in the day I forgot about it. I took them home and will try them again when it gets warmer. If my foot guru, Ken Holt, saw them, he might have a fit. I realize a tiny run is not a great gauge, so if it doesn't work, I'm not going to push it.

Too bad I wasn't wearing them on my way home on Tuesday when my flight from Pittsburgh to Dulles left late, leaving me about 15 minutes to run through the airport from C terminal to the very end of the D terminal in my boots.

In other news, my trip to Boston the next day for ECP was pleasantly smooth. I finally got another company – Prevalent – and the polite driver arrived in my driveway ahead of time. I got a trial of Amazon Prime so I could watch Mozart in the Jungle, and the three hours with the needle in my arm passed quickly as I watched this beautiful series. The nurses seemed to enjoy the music too. When I got home that night I stayed up until 11:30 watching more episodes and went to bed with classical music in my head.

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