Ouch

My two joyful runs up and down little hills in Central Park took a toll on my legs, specifically my quads, which ached in the same way they do after the long downhill in the 10-K St. Patrick's Road Race.

This was the mini-version. I didn't run on Monday, but I did walk a lot, including going up and down a gazillian subway steps. Going up stairs was fine; going down killed. "Ouch ouch ouch," I said going down each step. You can mumble to yourself to your heart's delight in New York, and nobody will pay any attention.

My travels included a trip to Lower Manhattan to visit PJ in her new digs. She made a good healthful lunch with brownies and strong coffee for dessert. We chatted about this and that and compared notes about our Graft vs. Host Disease and our view of life post-transplant. Having met in the blogosphere, we have discovered in real-life that we are kindred spirits. There is nothing like talking to someone who is almost exactly on the same page.

Monday's travelogue also includes an excellent pizza for dinner at Lombardi's, America's first pizzeria.

Yesterday, Katie and I went to the Frick Museum with my high school friend Pam and my cousin Jeanne's daughter, Amanda. This art collection is housed in the 1913 mansion on 70th Street and Fifth Avenue built by coke and steel industrialist Henry Clay Frick. He collected the art on display, including works by Rembrandt, El Greco and Vermeer. The furnishings, decorative arts, sculpture and architecture are as amazing as the paintings.

We found the bench where I used to sit in high school. I'd stare at the eighteenth-century portraits and have my high school thoughts and the men and women in the paintings would gaze back and say, "Get over it."

(No, I wasn't hearing voices. It is just incredibly calm and beautiful and takes you into another world.)

Yesterday I ran in the park again. It didn't feel as great, and my legs still hurt a little. But if you want to be a runner, you have to accept that kind of day as groundwork for the better ones. Later in the afternoon, after Katie and I sat and read in a Starbucks, I had such shooting knife-like pains in my heel that I had to lean on her.

I don't know if that was the plantar fasciitis or the neuropathy which, despite medicine (neurontin), still keeps my feet partly numb and tingly most of the time, with occasional sharp pains.

In any case, it went away. I probably won't run today, but I can't sit in Jeanne's apartment, either. Katie and I are heading later to the main branch of the New York Public Library to read in its magnificent Rose Reading Room. We'll probably take a bus, but I love walking in New York too much to take it all the way.

Tennis skirt is more than just a piece of clothing

Yesterday's big question: Should I wear the tennis skirt or not?

Obvious answer: Wear whatever you want!

It was a little more complicated, due I guess to the symbolism of the black Nike skirt with the biker shorts underneath. The last time I wore it, I guess that would be fall of 2008, I was playing a pretty good game of doubles. Not long after, I had relapsed and was in the hospital, the skirt left behind with the rest of my life. The other day, I found it crumpled and dirty on the floor in the back of my closet. I fished it out, washed it and hung it up to dry. 

Donna came over yesterday to hit some tennis balls, visit and walk Maddie around the lake. This was my second visit to the tennis court. We planned to hit just for 15 minutes or so. It was really hot, and regardless of the weather, I don't have the stamina, strength or balance to be out there longer. 

Did putting on the tennis skirt mean I was acting like someone who was really playing tennis? Was it like someone who dresses up for a sport that he or she can't really play? Should the tennis skirt wait for real tennis? 

Well, it was  hot out and I couldn't find my shorts. I've been mostly wearing capris to keep the sun off my legs as much as possible. 

I'm not sure I can explain the hesitancy very well. I think maybe we have complicated connections to items that tie us to life before cancer or to a time before a setback. The clothing connection goes both ways. I can't imagine wearing some of the T-shirts that I wore in the hospital. They make me feel like I should get back into bed.

Anyway, I was not planning on  dressing up in some fancy tennis outfit, but rather just putting on the black skirt and a T-shirt. I overcame my qualms and wore the skirt. More women seem to be wearing something like it these days anyway in the form of a skort. The shorts underneath were baggy, which felt kind of odd because they used to fit snugly. But it's very comfortable. 

Donna and I hit for a little more than 15 minutes. She was the mother, telling me that we should stop soon. I kept saying, "Just these three last balls until we get a good rally." We did that a few times over and then stopped, went back to my house for a cold drink, and took Maddie back to the lake. It was good to be on the court. I could see how far I've come but also how far I have to go.

Back to the closet: I've been thinking for ages that I have to clean it out. When I was in the hospital and very sick, it crossed my mind that I should have cleaned it, because if I died, people would discover how messy I was, and they would also find it a real pain to clean up. 

Like many women, I have too many shoes, most of them black. Some of them I bought because I thought they would help soothe my  plantar fasciitis, an excruciating heel pain that tormented me for about a year. The shoes might have been good for my feet, but they were too ugly to wear. The closet floor was also cluttered with old pairs of running shoes, a couple of them not even matched.

The skirt on the floor motivated me. But I couldn't do it all at once. I made myself do it by taking a few pairs of shoes (and some old purses) out, putting them on my floor, then coming back later in the day for a second round. This might be considered a way of prolonging the work, but, whatever. I finally got everything out, made a bag for the Goodwill, went downstairs to get the broom and a mask, got distracted and forgot about the whole mess.

When I went up for bed, late as usual, I was almost surprised at all the shoes and purses. I sort of knew I would end up finishing late at night. Anyway, it got done and I fell into bed. The closet looks better. But I still have to do the clothes. I think I will do it all at once.

In the meantime, I wore the tennis skirt again today just for hanging around the house and walking the dog. It felt fine, so I guess I'm over that one.