Run Like the Wind (with shoes from the 70s)

     In high school I had this fleeting dream of becoming a runner.  True to that goal, I saved my hard to come by money and bought a rather expensive pair of Etonic running shoes.  Trying to be as prepared as possible, I also bought the then best seller book by Jim Fixx entitled The Complete Book of Running.  Shoes - check.  Research - check.  Excitement - check.  Motivation - check. On to the training (I would say that I was "off and running", but not only would that be a bad pun; it would also be untrue).

     The first few days I dutifully got up with my alarm clock at 6:00am and shuffled out the door.  Living in Colorado at the time, the cool evenings and high altitude soon zapped my motivation.  Somehow the snooze button became a preeminent longing that squelched the runner dream.  Just 10 more minutes and I will be a world class runner in training.  Just 10 more minutes. OK, just 10 more minutes.  Soon it was "get ready for school time" and my window of opportunity had passed.  Motivation may have taken a hit, but I was still excited about becoming a runner, just not an early morning runner.

     Death has a tendency to quell excitement.  The whole idea of running for me was integrally tied in with the idea of good health, fitness and longevity.  Runners are superhuman, right?  Well, not long after I pretend started my regimen of running, Jim Fixx, the author of The Complete Book of Running, died....of a heart attack....while running......(yes, while running!!)  Excitement = extinguished.  The fact he had an undiagnosed congenital heart defect was inconsequential to me.  My running hero was gone, and whether it be true or false, running appeared to be complicit in the deed.  In honor of Mr. Fixx, I shelved the book and retired the shoes.

     Ah, the shoes.  Maroon suede and nylon runners with silver wings on each side, these footwear beauties have caused my children much embarrassment over the years. You see, after 29 years I still own my original Etonics.   I have worn them occasionally for household jobs, walking, even a hike or two.  My red racers were my shoes of choice for painting the playground maps at Homelink in 2009, so several times that year my son Jonmark refused to walk next to me or acknowledge me as family, claiming I looked like a perverse combination of Bozo the Clown meets Achilles. Finally, after almost three decades of waiting, my faithful Etonics (with Trans Am written on the heels for good measure) are getting use according to the purpose for which they were originally created.  I am using my running shoes to run!

     Whether it is running, jogging or bounce shuffling is an argument for another time.  For now, however, I am very proud to report my running shoes are getting worn out and will soon need replacing.  Most running shoes are designed to last six months with moderate use.  My shoes have lasted 58 times longer than that.

Picking up a long abandoned dream with tacky fashion footwear,
HRM

Sunday Struggle

     I don't want to be here doing this blog.  Sundays at the Musick household have a long standing tradition for being "nap" sacred.  From lunch until family walk time, anyone in the house over the age of 40 and under the age of 5 takes a nap.  We take the Sabbath seriously, and any deviation from the norm causes major rebellion.  I am not taking a snooze on this cool and rainy afternoon, and I am NOT happy about it.

     The whole problem started last night.  On a normal weekend the Musick teens and parentals enjoy a Netflix movie after the Little Munchkins are in bed.  We don't have a TV, so this once a week ritual is our opportunity to watch Psych, Monk, a good movie, and our most recent find - Chuck.  This weekend Hannah and I attended the Joyce Meyer's Women's Conference and were not home on Friday night.  No Chuck.  Saturday nights we are supposed to go to bed early so we can get to church on time, but this past Saturday we wanted to relax after the long conference and decided to "Chuck it up".  Bad idea, because although each of us might have a modicum of self-control, as a group we revert to the least common denominator.

     Before we started Chucking we unanimously agreed to watch one show, or at the most two.  After the second show two of us were stalwart in our intent to stop, but a unnamed family derelict said he needed to know what happened next (the fact that there is only one human male living in our house at the moment might give away too much as to who this was, but don't think about it too hard).  After the third show, the youngest member of our Chuck clan pushed the play button for the fourth episode, and the rest of us did not have the energy to refute the action.  Thus we went from a 45 minute break to a 3 hour break.

     Going to bed way too late, we were 25 minutes late for church today.  Now, instead of counting sheep, I am making sure I know enough about blogging to instruct my students in said exercise on the morrow.  Was the late night worth it - I have to say yes.  Family time is precious, and life is for living in and through the distractions.  I can sleep another time.

     There.  I survived.  My first blog is "in the bag", and I might even have time to squeeze in a trip to dreamland before the natives get restless.

Happy ZZZZZZZZZs and blissful blogging,
HRM