Best Beloved

I was lying down with Gavin last night, reading a bedtime story - Rudyard Kipling's "The Elephant's Child" - when it hit me.  Between tales of the great, gray-green, greasy Limpopo River, I realized that Gavin didn't care whether or not his dad could run 100 miles.  He couldn't give two hoots if I qualified for Boston, how long I could hold sub-7 pace, or any of that stuff.  All he cared about was that his daddy was there, laughing, teasing, and enjoying spending time with him.

Because being a runner is not what defines me.  Outside of that rather strange pastime and back in the real world, I'm a good husband, a good dad, and I make outstanding efforts to do the voice of the elephant with his nose in the crocodile's mouth.

On the banks of the great, gray-green, greasy Limpopo River no less.

This morning I considered going out for a run, but quickly thought better of it.  My quads and hamstrings are still screaming at me, my ankle is still threatening to drop me at a minute's notice, and I'm just about getting over this annoying cough.  But here's the really strange thing - for the first time in about a month I have absolutely no pain in my hip.

Yeah, completely gone.  Earlier tonight I put my left leg over the right, pushed my knee down, and tied and untied my shoes about five times.  It's been a while since I was able to do that.  I was so chuffed I even told Nancy "look what I can do".

She rolled her eyes.

So the next time it hits, I'll know exactly what to do - beat the hell out of it with some ice and then pound it into submission with another 30 or so miles.

Then again, maybe I'll just hope it doesn't come back.