(the photo to the left--a photo of a photo--is provided for illustration purposes and to prove I actually did what I have claimed to have done in this bloggish story.)
Since my last entry was about Thanksgiving and as it is that time of year, I thought I’d share a few other Thanksgiving memories. (Wait til I get around to telling stories about Thanksgiving dinners with the wife's family!) For this blog entry, we’ll have to go back a few years for the “Turkey-trot-broken-ankle-christmas-tree-shopping-cart” story, so stuff that Turkey and hang on for the ride.
Back in the olden days (when I was still sporty and running oodles of miles per week—we’re talking 1989 here), I enjoyed nothing more than spending Thanksgiving morning participating in the “Turkey Trot.” This annual 5K romp was held in the woods/on the hills/across the tundra of a local park. (When I say hill, I mean mountain. It’s a grassy side to the dam, so picture a ridiculously steep incline.) My running partner Flash and I loved the Turkey Trot. We loved it almost as much as we loved eating Thanksgiving dinner (and, running a race the day of Thanksgiving allowed one to eat more without guilt). This year, the ground was snow covered and although it was beautifully sunny out, it was freezy and rather treacherous. Flash and I stood around at the starting line with our closest hundred running friends, huddled together for warmth. The starting gun went off and we jogged slowly away from the starting line. (We were not sprinters. We were joggers and proud of it.)
The course led us up the giant ice-covered slope of the dam and then into the woods. I mean forest, complete with snow covered path and hidden tree roots peeking out of the ground. (See where this is going?) The air was crisp, the chatter was friendly, the footing was…..unfortunately for Flash, the footing was not so good. After all, we were running in the woods on a snow-covered trail with evil tree roots here and there.
Flash caught her foot on one of the unseen roots and tumbled to the ground, like a tumbleweed rolling across the desert.
It was rather downhill at this part of the trail, so she literally rolled while I watched in horror. She came to a stop and didn’t move. As this was a “friendly” race, people actually stopped to help (in competitive races, people would have trampled her and kept going). She denied being hurt, but once helped up, we could tell she was in no shape to walk, let alone run. Being the tough runner that she was, Flash insisted that she was fine and that she would finish the race. (Besides, she didn’t have much of a choice—we were in the woods and there was no way a car could get to where she was.) I stayed with Flash as she limped slowly along. She didn’t look so good—she was green with pain. We made fun of our stupidity for running in the snow on a holiday, we talked about our plans for the holiday, we talked about anything besides the pain she was obviously in. A 25-minute race took us over 45 minutes. She couldn’t go any faster and that really pissed her off.
Once we got to the finish line, our runner friends helped her into a car. She refused to leave before the frozen turkey drawing was held. God love her, Flash’s name was drawn and she won a frozen turkey. Turkey in lap, she drove off to the nearest emergency room.
Turns out Flash had broken her ankle. When her husband chastised her about this, she simply said,
“but, I won a turkey!”
He was obviously NOT a runner.
As the next weekend was the big “Jingle Bells Run for Arthritis,” and as Flash and I had raised oodles of money for the run, and as we had already made our holiday costumes for the run, I could not participate in the run without her. We agreed to meet at the starting line—at the local Walmart--decked out in our best holiday costumes. I was dressed as a Christmas tree, complete with Star on my head and garland flowing in the breeze. (Wild Mama and Baby Sister helped create this tree. It was quite the running attire.) I felt miserable about having to leave Flash at the starting line. We had worked so hard to get ready for this run….
....so, in a bout of insanity or stupidity or brilliance, I came up with the idea of putting her in a shopping cart and PUSHING her for the 3.1 mile race. Crutches and all, our running friends lifted her into the cart and off we went. (see photo of photo above to grasp what I'm talking about.)
Okay, so the first part of the race was fine, as we were in a paved parking lot. This was soon not to be the case, as the race route veered off onto side streets, road shoulders, grassy patches. Let me tell you, pushing a grown woman in a shopping cart while running across grass is NOT an easy thing to do. It was hard enough pushing her along the paved streets. I was huffing, puffing, sweating, bending, even walking at times. Flash wasn’t having any fun, either—who woulda thunk how painful it would be to bounce around as a grown woman in a shopping cart?
By the time we reached the finish line (and, let me tell you, we were at the back of the pack), I was dripping with sweat, my ornaments were falling off my costume, the star had fallen off my hat and Flash was suicidal. At the end, we hugged each other and she professed her thanks to me for not leaving her behind. Come on, leaving her behind would be like leaving your injured comrade on the battle field. I couldn’t leave her behind. We vowed NEVER to make such an idiotic decision again and I assure you that I have never pushed a grown woman in a shopping cart since that day.
I must say that the shopping cart run has always been a favorite memory of mine and I think of Flash every Thanksgiving. I am thankful for the great memories and good laughs and the cold, crisp November air and the camaraderie of running with people like Flash, especially now when I am no longer able to run.
And so, I am grateful to Flash for a few of the wonderful reasons to be so thankful in life.
Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is all about?
Gobble Gobble.
No comments:
Post a Comment