I had a bad dream last night. My grandmother is 92. I dreamed that she moved into a nursing home. She still lives by herself these days. Something about her being in a nursing home was just so sad to me. I need to go visit her, soon.
9 years ago, when my boy was born, I would joke about her longevity by telling folks that she would outlive us all. Unfortunately, that isn't usually how things work.
I don't know why, but I am one of those people who can't just live in the moment. My entire life, I'm trying to see around corners. Sometimes, it's helpful. For instance, when running a business, the ability to anticipate what's coming down the pike is a big advantage.
Sometimes, though, I think it just makes me anxious and unable to enjoy life in the present.
In any event, I need to go visit my grandma here, soon. When I got into that Fort Worth Navy unit, she was sad because I had been drilling in Cleveland. The Navy would have paid for a hotel room for me, but I just stayed with her.
I always wondered why that was something she seemed to enjoy and look forward to. It wasn't like I spent MUCH time with her. I'd visit with her, but mostly, I was working. I think she just enjoyed the company. She liked not having to sleep in an empty house.
My son is gone to West Virginia with his mother right now. The house is empty, except for the dogs. Man, dogs are a pain in the butt. Never was much of a dog or cat person. Dogs are great because they're so affectionate and loyal. However, owning a dog means you're pretty much tied to your house (or houses of people who want somebody else's dog to visit) and you're going to pick up poop all the time.
I digress... having the empty house sort of sucks. Logan is at an age, now, where he doesn't want to play with me all the time. In fact, we don't play all that much anymore at all. He has friends. It's not like he doesn't enjoy time with me, but it's more fun to associate with kids his own age, at a peer level. It's also more important for his development.
It's just that I want to be around him. To see him here and there and interact with him in little ways. That's probably all my grandmother wanted out of my visits.
From the moment my son was born, I was acutely aware that he was only in my life for a short time. In a way, that's not true. If the natural order plays itself out, he'll be a part of my life until the day he buries me. However, he could move across the country for college or a job. He could take a job that takes him halfway around the world. This close interaction is a gift that I only get to enjoy while he's home.
So many regrets in my life. Wasted opportunities. Times when I didn't realize the preciousness of the things I had, or the people around me. I'm fortunate that I learned enough lessons not to take my boy for granted.
Grandma is only in my life for a short time, too. She's been part of it since I was 3 years old, when I went to live with her and grandpa. Nearly half a century. Still, my time with her, like my time with anybody, is limited. Best not to take it for granted.
Logan has travel tryouts next weekend, but the weekend after that, I need to go see her.
When Logan was very young, maybe 2 years old, we took him to the zoo. I was pulling him in a wagon. After we finished seeing one exhibit, he got back in the wagon and I went up to grasp the handle to pull him. I didn't look back to check on him before I pulled.
Tessa and I had pulled him miles upon miles upon miles in that wagon without incident. It was just an ordinary kid's play wagon, with no seatbelts or anything else special about it.
I think what happened is that after he climbed in and I turned around, he sat up, on the back fence of the wagon, because he saw other kids, in other types of wagons that were built for the kids to sit up higher. When I pulled, I heard a sickening thud.
I turned around, heard people gasp, and saw Logan lying down on the concrete behind the wagon. He had landed pretty much entirely on his head.
I picked him up, we contacted medical personnel and immediately took him to the hospital.
Turned out he was fine. No concussion, nothing. God protects idiots and small children. Little kids are pretty resilient, physically. They take a lot of bumps and bruises, and most of the time, they come through unscathed.
The other day, for some reason, Logan kept talking about that day. He claims he remembers it, which I doubt. He probably remembers the story. Though, it's not one I really tell. It's just become family folklore over the years.
He kept asking about details and telling me what he thought he remembered of the incident. He described the woman who was standing over him. It was, and still is, very hard for me to talk about that day.
I told him, "that was one of the worst days of my life."
He's too young to pick up the cue that this is an adult's way of saying they're not really enjoying the topic of conversation. He was still cheerfully asking questions about it.
It dawned on me that it hadn't been as bad for him as it was for me. I'm glad. To me, it was a horrible failure: careless parenting that resulted in my son being injured. To him? Less traumatic, due to the passage of time, than, say, when he tried to field a line drive that took a bad hop and hit him in the lip.
So strange that something I feel so bad about doesn't bother him at all.
I'm part of that segment of the population that worries, though. I'm not a good person when I'm carefree and footloose. I've tried and it just doesn't work for me. Either I take things way too far and act a fool, or I spend the whole time with half of me thinking, "oh, that looks like trouble".
I find people who can just live in the moment to be fascinating and inspiring. That's just not me, though. I'm the guy who is thinking, "Okay, but what will happen tomorrow? Next week? Next year?"
I hardly ever drink. I never drink to excess. Not that I never did, but frankly, I never liked the way it made me feel the next day.
So, here's to the obsessive nerds who worry too much. Maybe we'll have well-deserved peace in our twilight years as a reward for the overly obsessive diligence that took so much fun out of our younger years.
In the mean time, I have to get Logan ready for travel tryouts. Then, I need to go visit my grandma.
I really, really needed a rest day from running. So, I went whole hog yesterday. In fact, I think I ate a whole hog. I'm eager to get back to it, today. Realistically, at this level of fitness, I should probably be taking 2 days a week off, but I think I'll be fine with just one. We'll see.
I found my old copy of the Daniels Running Formula and it came at the right time. I was thinking of doing one lactate threshold workout per week (at about 90% of max heart rate), but the book reiterated that it would be inappropriate at this point. So, I'm sticking with slow, easy distance for the next several months.
I will be bumping out my distance to 4.75 miles, though. (The 0.75 is the warm-up and cool-down.) Then, 4 x 1 mile repeats, with a 1 minute recovery between if needed... lately, I haven't needed them much.)
Daniels reminded me that it takes 6 weeks to get the full effect of a new training stimulus. So, the 30 mile per week training plan should probably be something I don't change until the first week of October.
I actually enjoy this aspect of training: mapping out the plan, anticipating the physical changes that come from new training stimulus, etc.
The last time I did this was a decade ago, and it was easier. However, today I have the benefit of wisdom and experience. So, I won't be making a lot of the same mistakes I made back then, either.
So, I'm carbing up with my oatmeal and will hit the dreadmill when the food has sufficiently digested.
Slowly but surely, I'm committing to the idea of a Spring marathon. I think it'll be a grind, but training for a marathon is probably the fastest, best way to get fast.
After the first marathon I ran, I came out faster than I'd ever been in my life. I wish I'd ran a few 5Ks, because I might have stood a shot at breaking in under 20 minutes. However, I was ramping up for an Ironman triathlon just a few months later, so the training plan didn't have much room for flexibility.
I was hit by a car while riding my bike, 10 days before the Ironman attempt. Then, I ruptured my achilles tendon 3 months after that. By the time the achilles had recovered, I started a new job in Toledo and wasn't able to train like I should have.
I did, however, manage to shuffle across the finish line in Ironman New York, 2000. 2.4 mile swim. 112 mile bike. 26.2 mile run.
So, although belatedly, after monumental setbacks, and much slower than I would have been a year earlier, I did, finally, earn the title of Ironman.
I don't know if I'll ever do an Ironman again, but like I said, I'm starting to commit to the idea of a Spring marathon. It feels good to be getting back in shape after all these years.
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