It’s been a few since our last meeting, well, at least on the wild side. Brad was manning the sister sight while I hunkered down on the mothership to get caught up on the latest race posts. I recall B. from the UK requesting more gory details on this year’s failed 50K ultra trail attempt – well that is officially out there (link here). Warning it is “graphic”, but does answer B’s real question as to why you should NEVER run an ultra ha. On a better note, the Bix7 race recap is also published (link here). That road event went a whole lot better, but ended more emotional as it marked my official retirement from that race after 20 consecutive years.
Somewhat running related, I decided everyone could probably use a good laugh about now. Chaos has laid siege to headlines – the world’s on fire, drama is the rule rather than the exception and angst has consumed empathy. Time to smile at my expense ha. This morning I competed in the new TC .3 mile sprint. Did the recent Olympic events spur that commitment…no…did the glint of a finisher medal catch my eye…no…perhaps a personal misogi purification ritual (currently reading the Comfort Crisis) to rekindle the fast twitch leg muscle fibers long since forgotten…nope. Truth is it was the garbage truck. Normally our trash isn’t picked up until after 11:00am. The Monday morning routine, internal alarm clock rings, the covers are thrown back and jump into the day. Translated, Linda comes in and announces it is garbage day reinforcing her “Waker of the Dead” moniker earned at the last ultra race. Fast forwarding, I slapped on some slip in sloggers by the door and head out to the trash container – halfway there, the ears pick up the distinct beeping of the truck. Power walk the best I could in the loose shoes the 300 or so feet to the street – it had moved on to the neighbor. Mind you this is rural, so when I say neighbor, think at least a 10th of a mile. I started running down the middle of the road pulling the can behind me waving like a lunatic to get the driver’s attention. No luck, gets in truck and goes to the next one which is two 10ths past the last stop. Now I am sprinting..mind you it looks more like the ministry of silly walks because I’m hauling the can down the middle of the road trying to keep the damn shoes on while waving. THANKFULLY none of my neighbors saw me or I would have assuredly made it into the local newspaper – pretty sure I heard a couple of Deer yucking it up in the nearby trees. That stop had several cans giving me extra time to cover the ground. Not sure who was more startled, me for being able to run that fast in those conditions or the driver who kept looking at me and then back up the road where my driveway was. Apparently our previous driver quit and the new guy went back to the original order of the houses. I am here to declare that if the Olympics are willing to add Breakdancing, they need to look into Trash Can Sprinting for Los Angeles in 2028 – gonna get me a medal!!
Quite pleased with myself (although still glancing around to make sure nobody was watching beyond those heckling Deer) I limped back to the house dragging the now much lighter garbage can. Walked in the house and was met with “What the hell happened to you!?!”. “Well, I started training for the 2028 Olympics, but we should get better wheels on the trash can – now I must hydrate”. Linda simply turned and went about her day. Tells you something about the things she takes as normal when it comes to me hehehe. Hopefully your smile will last the rest of the day!
In honor of my post competition limp, let’s get to today’s featured feathered friend!
Hit the jump to read more about the “Limp”kins spotted on our trip last year through the Florida Panhandle.
Continue reading Limping
Life Intrigued 