You would never look at me and say, “Oh yes, she’s definitely a runner.” The words that would come to mind run more along the lines of moth-er, shop-er, merry mak-er, cocktail-er…..all the other “er’s.” But, the fact of the matter is, I love to run. More than loving to run, I love to run with my Wrigley. We are not fair weather runners either, we’re hardcore. Everyone likes to be outside when it’s nice, but we’re not like everyone else. If it’s raining, I wear a slicker. Heaven knows I’m not sweet enough to melt. And Wrigley, well, he’s a water dog, so he dries pretty easily. Winter’s no problem. I bundle up and wear one of those face masks that make me look like an armed robber, but really after about a mile I’m so hot the hat comes off, then I have to unzip my coat, and finally I take off my mittens. As for the Wiggler, he’s a Labrador. He’s a man’s man. He could go on forever in the cold.
I do my best thinking while on our runs. When else would I possibly have the time to conceive all of my hair brained schemes? There is just nothing like being outside, listening to your music and being with one of your favorite people of Earth. I’m not kidding, as we jog along Wrigley glances back at me, over his shoulder, and smiles.
This past year has been kind of a stinker for us. I am a big loser and tore my meniscus. I was out for five months, which meant that poor Wrigley was out for five months too. While I was able to bike and go to the health club, my little pup was bored out of his mind. Wrigley is a serious athlete. Going for a walk around the block was boring, and going to the park for us to throw a tennis ball for him was a rather pathetic substitution. I begged Nick to take him for a run, and he obliged me on a few occasions, though he always returned in a huff telling me that I trained him to run too slow. Hello…that’s how we run. I said we loved it, I didn’t say we were any good it.
As the More is More Mom® I have little time for rules and a reasonable course of action, so I released myself from inactive duty. The day we got back in the saddle was one of Wrigley’s happiest days. He panted, and slobbered and grinned from ear to ear. Fast forward to January 19th of this year; my baby and I were on a quick jaunt and I felt a twinge of pain in my right knee. RATS! Having previously been to the doctor for a knee injury, I felt fairly confident about making a diagnosis (never mind that I’ve not been to medical school. I watched General Hospital for years, especially in it’s hey day with Dr. Noah Drake.).
Another three month break from running seemed completely sufficient. Anyway, Wrigley was bored to tears and I just couldn’t take it anymore. Thursday I was on a mad search for the knee brace we paid $75.00 for when Nick was complaining of knee pain two years ago. For $75.00 it should be practically bionic. I slid it on, tightening the Velcro to the point of nearly cutting off my circulation, tied my shoes, put on my head phones, cranked the tunes and took my baby for a spin. What a day; the sun was shining, the breeze was warm, I wasn’t limping and Wrigley was smiling……….