I'm Sure She Has Bad Knees

she was always small. a small baby and a small child. early on in life, the doctors told her mother that she would never be more than small. because she knew nothing else, being small didn't bother her. no, that is not what bothered her. what got on her nerves was how much it seemed to bother everyone else. people would rush around her to open a door, assuming that she could not figure out how to open it. she was small; she wasn't dumb! wherever she went, folk would reach up to get things for her, they would bend down to speak with her, as though their mouths had to be right up by her ear in order for her to hear them - did she look deaf? but what really got her goat was when people would try to pick her up, like she was some kind of toy. ARGH!!!

fortunately, she lived in an age when you did not have to live with your lot. genetics and the gods may have chosen to make you something, but you could now thumb your nose at them, pay doctors a whole lot of money and transform yourself into whatever you wished! so, as soon as she could, credit card in hand (even better than lots of money, apparently) she went to a doctor well-recommended by those in the practice of self-transformation. and he said - how tall? she said - well...
then the door closed because, even in that world, doctor-patient privilege is taken seriously.

...

so there i was, at the yoga studio. i was turning around to head out of the locker room and into the classroom and, i almost had to pinch myself to make sure i was not dreaming. i was looking straight ahead but i was looking at a bellybutton. a bellybutton. and it was attached to a person. a real live person. the tallest woman, no, person, i have ever seen in real life. i was so close, and she was so tall, that i had to strain my neck to look up at her. i fought back the urge to push her down (a reaction born out of my long-lived, yet never realised, desire to be 6foot 2) and she smiled down at me. i swear i read her mind: "who's going to need help getting things off a shelf now, huh?"

Look Out, Mr Postman!

it appears that the weather gods decided to test my commitment (or is it, just how crazy is she?) granted, i did decide to sign up for an insane relay that meant i had to start training in december, aka the middle of winter. and, had it been winter in zimbabwe, that would not be a big deal. in fact, winter training would probably be rather pleasant, except for the altitude. oh, also, it was a particularly, horribly cold winter to boot. good times.

so, in january, i was getting ready for the series of races that i have run thus far and will run as the year wears on. i went out and bought long running pants, a couple of long-sleeved thermal running tops, gloves, a neck muff and a hat. i asked for advice and the experts pointed me in the right direction. so, i had no fear when i got up and it was below zero degrees C. it was 16F which is like minus 9C and that was before the windchill. seriously, people, windchill? it's like, let's depress you by telling you how cold it is... but wait, there's more! we'll make you suicidal by tell you how cold you'll feel.

but, like i said, i had no fear; i had my gear and i read everywhere that i would warm up as i ran and might even feel hot, because the body works that well. so, halfway through my 8 mile run, one hand suddenly just felt cold. i tried to shake it back to life but it would not comply. i was four miles from home and trying to figure out what to do. i tried putting my hand under my armpit, but my armpit wasn't feeling warm at all. and the hand was getting colder. then the other hand, feeling left out, started getting cold too. i still had 3 miles to go and i was in the park with no warm buildings in sight. oh man! why hadn't i stuck to the treadmill? i pulled my hat off and and tried to wrap my hands in the hat. small comfort.

those three miles seemed to take forever but, finally, i was at the front door to the building. my keys were in my back pocket but my fingers were frozen in place. thankfully a neighbour was coming out of the building and opened the door, took one look at my face and just said, "oh." i went upstairs and rang the bell - hidef was supposed to be home. no answer. i could press a bell but i wasn't sure i could manage a key. i rang the bell again. this time hidef opened the door to find me with my dead hands held up in front of me and my face scrunched up in pain. because i had started defrosting and, for all the pain the icing caused, the defrosting was ten times worse. he took my hands and started rubbing them and i screamed and yanked my hands away and instead paced up and down whimpering, "it hurts so much, it hurts so much." i had no idea what to do but then the rest of my body decided to get super cold and start shivering. so my fingers were burning and the rest of me was frozen.

i started trying to peel sweaty clothes off - yeah, i was both sweaty and frozen - with non-functioning fingers so it was mostly hidef trying to catch me and help me as i paced like a mad person and whimpered. then i sat on the couch, under a blanket, in a pair of mittens. and then i cried a little. i would have cried more but i wanted to be brave for hidef.

the next day i went out and bought heavy duty, thick gloves, ready for any kind of weather. so much for "running gloves".

even though i have run in the rain before, last weekend my weather gods (what have i ever done to you?) sent me rain AND cold. how cold? well some needed to be treated for hypothermia cold. it was barely over freezing and raining hard. that's me, up there, before the race! i started out and my toes were tingling from being cold and wet. there were women running covered in garbage bags, but i thought that i might as well just get wet, because, i mean, once you're wet, that's it, right? you can't get any more wet? no, no you can't. but you sure can get more miserable. my shoes were water-logged and my spirit was drowning. it was a tough run, for sure. i kept having to give myself pep talks to keep me from giving up but it was not easy. i told myself that once i hit the last two miles it would be super easy. after 11 miles, what are two miles between friends? but it was not easy. i just kept telling myself - you just have to finish. you can finish this. you get up at 5am - it can't be for nothing.

and i did finish and my legs hurt. and i was cold. and i realised that i had forgotten to plan on a meeting place with hidef, who had my dry clothing. and i was trying to figure out what to do as i stood there, cold and wet with one of those silver blankets they give you at races to keep warm in. then a woman came up to me and said, "i just wanted to thank you for keeping me going those last two miles of the race. i just told myself to keep with you and i would be fine."

such a great silver lining to a really beyond cloudy day.