Trails and trials

When I was making dinner tonight I thought of all kinds of witty things to say here...but now I'm here and my mind is a blank.

So, no wit. Just plainspoken words.

We ran this AM, intending to do 2 hours 45 minutes. Part of the run took us on the back trail at the battlefield, which is where the "I am a deer" moment occurred. I attribute it to roots but there were several almost-trips. I really believe it was roots. On that topic, I know I've mentioned before several occasions where my foot "bumps" (not a full fledged stumble). In re-reading some of my posts I recognized a common denominator: Target. I almost always wear flat shoes there and have never picked my feet up properly, so I think it's the way they do their floors. In fact, I am convinced of it. That's one mystery solved.

Anyway, the trail surface is fabulous even if the terrain is uneven. The problem was coming off the trail and back onto pavement. The trail can take it out of you, no two ways about it, and then hitting a different surface will finish the job. Lynne and I made it to my car and beyond, but only pulled off a 2:27 or so. We're on target with our training so I have no regrets about cutting this one a little short.

A nice rest of the day ensued; got the car serviced; had a hair appointment; had a wonderful visit with Kenny and JR. Picked up groceries on the way home as I had decided to make shrimp and garlic in olive oil over pasta. Yum!

All was fine until I tried to break the spaghetti. Just like when I opened the lipstick, my stupid hand spasmed and I had to ask for help. It's getting easier, this asking for help thing, but I don't like it very much. The more I ask for help the more it means I am losing independence.

Tomorrow is a support group meeting. I hadn't planned on going but after talking with Lynne, who said she'd like to go, I changed my mind. It's good that I'm going, I think. You think?