Its a beautiful idea; being able to walk through and between three cozy cities that are handsomely tucked inside a deciduous forest. During a time of year when I'm NOT fully engaged in a love/hate relationship with nature (severe allergies make tree-hugging difficult), Tim and I like to stroll the Centennial Trail and either talk about nothing/anything or people watch. Its fun.
The year before Tim (my personal time-line) my sister-in-love invited me to jog with her on said trail. My sister is a body builder and marathon-super-woman who is about the same size as I am but seven times stronger. She's gorgeous, kind-looking, and both motherly and free-spirited all at the same time - and because of these elements it might never occur to anyone that she could take out an entire police force so long as there weren't guns and tazers involved. If she were a character in a book, she'd be the Bad-A heroin like Eowyn only better 'cuz my sister doesn't have a orphan complex.
"Fool! No man can kill me!" Says the evil witch-king."I am no man!" Says our heroin as she removes her identity-concealing helmet and then slices off the head of the dragon. *Slice*
That's my sister. I think you get the point now. ;-)
And then there's me: I'm like Gimli the dwarf. "We dwarfs are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over short distances!" Even though I squawk a lot about my lack of perspective I enjoy using it as an opportunity to make people laugh. Running is a dangerous activity for me. This particular occasion, jogging with my sister-in-love, was no exception.
We met at 6:00am at the park. Celeste had had a humble breakfast and some coffee. I had only coffee (bad move on my part). Naturally, the conversation is about running, running-websites, and about conditioning yourself to run. My sister is doing most of the talking because its her passion and she's informed. I'm trying very hard to listen and watch my feet because I'm notorious for tripping even when there is nothing I could possibly trip over.
I had, previous to this excursion, decided to simply "keep pace" with my sister because:
(A) she was the expert and
(B) she would know better than I did if I was "pushing it"
With my 20/30 hindsight, I can see that my sister was trying to be polite by allowing me set the pace because:
(A) she was the expert and
(B) only I could know if I was "pushing it"
At the six-mile-marker we were practically sprinting . We past a few casual bicyclists, some strollers, and the boy's track team from Lake Stevens High School. My sister was diligent with conversation - hardly bothered by the pace. Meanwhile I was huffing and puffing and wondering how in the Lord's good name she could run and talk with hand gestures and not trip at the same time. I was really hoping she'd want to take a break soon.
My hopes quickly turned into prayers when I realized I was starting to get sick. I could feel my stomach twist and a foreboding started to crawl up my throat. Uh-oh, I thought. I think I touched my sister's arm in warning just before I lurched into the ditch. To top it off - while I was emptying the contents of my stomach - the boy's track team from Lake Stevens High School caught up with us. Awesome.
My memory at Centennial Trail is one of my favorite funny stories to tell. At the time I was red with embarrassment (I could feel my cheeks flushing) and my poor sister felt guilty because she thought it was her fault - which it wasn't. I've never been invited to jog since. I suspect that's because she's waiting for me to tell her when I'm ready to try again - which I'm not. Haha!
Happy Friday! :-) Smile, people!