Day 110

I wasn’t able to keep the streak alive - Saturday morning basketball took it out of me (and for what it’s worth, I was playing at a pretty high level, hitting most of my mid-range shots, bullying defenders in the post, and even hitting a three) - but I made up for it on Sunday.

It was a nice day, about 80 degrees and a cool-ish breeze, when I left Lisa planting flowers in the front yard. I cued up my Garrison Keillor book to listen to more humorous ruminations on aging and death and, for the first time, took a right at the three mile intersection instead of heading back the way I came.

This was a brave new world for me. I kind of knew where that road would go, but from my old marathoning days, I also knew that roads sometimes go in unexpected ways and you can find yourself WAY out of your original course. The difference between then and now, however, is that I have a phone that tells me how to get back on the right path, and I have a phone that can summon help if the remaining path is too long.

(Side note: I went to play with my Sunday blues band, and about five miles from home, I realized I’d forgotten my phone. Ooof - I felt naked without that security blanket in my hand, but I was already late to practice and couldn’t turn back, and I kind of wanted to see how it would go without my Good Friend. Turns out it was okay: I found my way to the practice site without needing Apple Maps, I faked my way through the songs we played without using the chord charts on my phone, and I didn’t miss any important calls. Still…)

Garrison held my hand through the walk with his shambling baritone storytelling. The main plot in this new book is his reconnection with a woman he’d loved as a small town teenager who is now dying of pancreatic cancer. Fun! But it actually is very sweet, as he recalls his first love and the uncomplicated emotions it awakens at an age when that’s all you need and that’s all that matters. As she declines, he visits her and she asks him to tell her a joke. “Make me laugh,” she says.

He tells three jokes. One that I’d heard him tell before, one that wasn’t that funny, and one that made me laugh out loud on the road. That one goes:

A guy is ice-fishing with his friends when they see a funeral procession passing the lake on the road to the cemetery. The guy puts down his rod, stands up, takes off his hat, and turns to give respect to the procession. One of his buddies says, “That was very classy.” The guy responds, “It’s the least I could do. We were married for 35 years.”

I told that one to Lisa and, to her credit, she laughed out loud too.

As I finished my sixth mile, I knew where I was - about one and quarter miles from home. I was at a good stopping point in the book, so I switched to a running playlist on my iTunes, and the Stones launched into “Rip This Joint.” If you can’t run to that song, you can’t run at all.

So I ran. And at a pretty good pace.

According to my splits, that seventh mile came in at 10:02! I didn’t think I could run a ten minute mile at all, much less after walking six miles. But there it was.

When I got home, I was tired, but the good kind of tired - out of breath, but not hurting (except for my pinky toes, which had taken a beating). I needed a cold shower, but then I remembered that I have a pool! Who swims in February?

Me! It felt great, and it probably did a lot of good for my muscle recovery, like hopping into an ice bath.

And if my face looks red in that picture, it must be a bad photo filter.

When I sent my splits to my workout buddies, Art was not happy that I’d run a mile. “If you want to push yourself harder, find a bike,” he texted me.

I have a bike, and I will probably start using it. But running a ten minute mile did more for my self-esteem than 30 miles on a bike. More, please!