Hoops
All the advice about bloggers sticking with one blog is true. I've nearly abandoned See Chrisy Run [my other blog]. It's still there, but I haven't updated since Supermodel and I finished our final race last September. I don't know what I'm going to do with it.
More importantly, I don't know what my next event/goal will be, if any. Supermodel kind of broke up with me after the trauma of the Triple Trail Challenge. I might have pushed her too far when I enthusiastically made reference to how great the events would be next year because we would be experienced trail racers. I had this discussion with her less than an hour after she crossed the finish line of our last event -- a grueling trail marathon. She was clearly irritated by my attempt to muscle her into being my training partner again while she was still trying to hydrate, catch her breath and wipe the blood from her body as she repeatedly mumbled, "That sucked."
I reminded Supermodel that it was just like having a baby. We forget the pain moments after delivery. She told me she's had six children and vividly remembers the pain of each birth. She also informed me she didn't want to run with me during the winter months.
I workout before the kids get up for school, so I'm typically out the door by 5:00 AM. Supermodel had a little more flexibility with her schedule so she didn't need to run in the middle of the night in the winter. I don't run alone in the dark, so Chris said he'd run with me at the offensive hour.
Winter has come and gone. Chris ran with me on several cold, dark, snowy mornings.
One morning I was waiting for him to come downstairs. Steam was swirling above his lovingly poured cup of coffee and our cold weather gear was thoughtfully displayed on the counter. I was in the office checking my email... and the windchill. Chris entered the office dressed in his warmest running tights and turtleneck, looked out the french doors at the snowfall [which would have been pretty had the wind not been driving it horizontally -- it was harsh], and calmly said, "I'm not running in this shit." He turned around and walked back upstairs.
Supermodel asked how it was going running with Chris. I told her it was great -- he'd only called one run. She said she wouldn't have wanted to run in that weather either. "He just has the balls to stand up to you," I believe were her exact words. Whatever.
Now what? I'm reviewing training plans, plotting event dates against our summer plans, and working on Supermodel and/or Chris for a commitment to... something. So far, no dice.
I do have one goal...
We have an arcade-style basketball game in the basement. On occasion, I play by myself. A couple of weeks ago I hit what I thought was a family high-score for a one-minute solo game. I called Chris and left him a message.
"Know your busy, but I was in the basement tidying... anyway... I played a few games of basketball. What's your high-score? I think I beat it. Sixty-four. Uh-huh. Six. Tee. Four. Call me."
Chris returned my call and said he didn't remember his exact score, but knows he broke 80 once and hit the 70s a few times. I didn't believe him. He said he was in the zone and one of the boys was his witness. Further probing revealed that Middle Boy [10] witnessed the high score, however he's been known to stretch the truth, and succumb to the power of suggestion. Doesn't matter. The score to beat is 80.
Chris has taunted me with email subject lines that say "made it to 80 yet?" And salutations like "Hey Hoops."
Sixty-eight. That was my highest score until a few moments ago. I went downstairs to take a picture for this post. I played one game before returning upstairs. One game. My score? SEVENTY-EIGHT.
I feel a sore trapezius muscle coming on...
