My relationship with my mom is strained, made more so by her inconsiderate death almost 4 years ago.
To honor her memory, I slept in. Then watched the Formula One race on TiVo. I'm sure that's what she would have wanted me to do.
My favorite Mother's Day memory with her was at, where else, The Indianapolis Motor Speedway. We spent a good 90 minutes leaning on the rail, overlooking Gasoline Alley, just talking about stuff. It was great.
Eventually, when morning turned into afternoon, I extracted myself from the couch. It was time for a run.
Yesterday I had this great plan to run long on the trails near Bloomington. That plan fell victim to the sleep in. Instead, I set out for a longish loop from my house. Almost as soul enriching as spending a couple hours on single-track trail, the only human within 5 miles in any direction. Almost.
At 5+ miles into the run, I ran past the Carmel High School cross country course. I'd always wanted to jumped into the woods at this point along this course that I've run a hundred times, but never had. Until today.
I was feeling great. Being on the trail made me feel even better. It's a short but challenging course with a couple decent climbs. I dodged roots and ruts and rocks, often covered with old leaves and newly fallen tree buds. Every foot fall had the potential of injury, or at least discomfort, but I emerged unscathed.
At the other end of the trail, I popped back into the "safety" of civilization, with it's uniform sidewalks and cross-walks. Less than half a mile later my left foot landed on a big rock. Never saw it. Only rock on 400 yards of sidewalk. I hit it dead center in the tender heart of the foot. Hurt like a mother.
Huh? Oh, jeez... sorry moms... hurt really bad.
Good running,
Doug
Numbers: 8.1 miles on sidewalks, trails, and one big-ass rock.
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