Rabbit Run

Tonight, I ran like I ran this spring. The weather was delightful, a break from the misery of the last two weeks.

I left home slowly, not knowing what to expect and not feeling like my tank was full. After two miles, things felt average at best. Early highlights as I ran 10-minute miles included seeing a baby bunny attempt to scamper across a yard and hearing my Mom pass in her car hollering, "I love you!" I love you, too, Mom. Now watch the road. (wink, nod)

Around mile three, things felt a little better, despite a young jock who flew past me. I reached the water stop at Athlete's House, stretched, remarked to a young lady runner how nice it was outside and headed back home. I started running faster because I started feeling better; also, the young lady runner re-started her run seconds after me and seemed to be set on matching my pace. OK, that's not gonna happen, I thought.

So I played a little game. Let's see how 8:30s feel. Now 8:15s. I quickened the pace, noticing another rabbit in a yard. Maybe the rabbits were tonight's fans. The young lady hung for awhile, losing yards as I pressed on the gas. Before mile five somewhere, she turned down a street.

OK, big fella. Two miles to go ... now what? More 8:15s, I said to myself. You're not in pain, so giddyup.

The seven-miler included maybe three minutes stoppage for the stretch break and traffic waits. Total time was 1:06:40, a 9:30/mile pace, but it was really more like an average 9:00/mile with the outer half slow and inner half quick. I felt like 10 miles was doable tonight, a good feeling after only 11 miles total last week. The weather is supposed to be good all week.

Dori was in a very good mood this weekend, especially Saturday evening sipping wine and relaxing on our deck. We have a beautiful yard, with majestic trees that provide much shade. Dori talked about a lunch she had earlier in the day with a 100-day blood cancer survivor, a 45-year-old pilates instructor and triathlete from Mississippi. Dori learned about her through our friend and AML survivor Chuck Hendry. She later met the lady's husband and came home quite alert to her recent struggle.

Her new friend told her about an unsuccessful blood cancer fight a 37-year-old man had at Vanderbilt. He had terrible graft-versus-host-disease that caused his arms to blister and pop, which must have been painful beyond comprehension. When I went inside to get something, I felt angry and emotional. I'm not gonna go there. Dori's in a good mood, and it's time to produce a happy face or at least avoid the alternative. I think it worked because 30 minutes later Dori was dancing to some early 80s Dire Straits videos ... a sure-fire way to flashback to simpler times.

Dori seems to be enjoying teaching instruction very much. I'm happy she's happy. It's been good for her to sink her teeth into something other than a cancer fight. I've been adjusting, frankly, for several reasons. One of them: It's odd not having Dori with the kids as much as before. That's meant a different schedule after a very hectic spring at work. I think I'm still decompressing and looking forward to a vacation later this summer that will surely hit the spot.

Maybe some more spring-like runs will help, too.

One last thing, an article of interest in today's local paper: Minority bone-marrow donors in short supply