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April 11, 2005
What type of sprite am I? A water sprite, of course… (more…)
Things to do with the earlier angst remain unchanged, but the rest of the day has gotten better.
The Mets won their home opener in their traditionally nail-biting way with five runs scored in the bottom of the ninth. Two wins in a row is a streak, right?
And the DC Film Festival called to say I’d been accepted as a volunteer. So I’ll be one of the friendly faces you see at E Street and Regal next Tuesday and Wednesday. And the perks include a free regular screening and a free ticket to the final movie and party! The final movie, Ladies in Lavender, is one of the ones I really wanted to see, too, so I’m particularly excited.
Karen and I logged about 10 miles on foot on Saturday dodging parades and tourists, investigating the nation’s attic, and walking to and from dinner. By the end of the day, I could definitely feel that we’d been out hiking.
Sunday brought another walk (but only 2 miles or so this time) and, following a disappointing Nationals game on tv, a bike ride.
Now, I’m not a bike-for-the-fun-of-it kind of cyclist. I don’t mind riding to work or to the grocery store, but you won’t see me jumping up and down just for the opportunity to ride around the neighborhood. But it was a nice day and I managed to find a ride that sounded manageable in one of Rudi’s books — 14 miles from start to finish. It didn’t sound terrible and it paused in Bethesda, where I could catch my breath. Plus Rudi promised a field of yellow flowers along the way, and how could I argue with that?
So I trundled out and down to Georgetown, where the Capital Crescent Trail begins. And, sure enough, there is a lovely field of golden buttercups (or something akin to them) in the middle of the woods. And a spot along the Potomac where there’s a picnicking grove. But I hit the 6 mile mark on the trail (about 8 miles in on the ride) and suddenly I knew I’d been too optimistic about my abilities. But I convinced myself to keep going with the ride, thinking that I only had 6 miles to go and that Bethesda was only a few miles away.
So I reached Bethesda and treated myself to an ice cream cone (strawberry cookies-n-cream — yum!) and then followed the directions to get me to the Rock Creek trail. Following Broad Brook Road through Rock Creek was lovely and downhill; I managed to get up to 23.5 mph for a while. But Rock Creek trail itself was mildly hilly and at one point I just had to dismount and push the bike the rest of the way up. And by the end my whole body was moving with my legs and I was saying aloud to myself, “Just a little while longer. Keep going. You’ll be fine.” I’m sure the other cyclists thought I was crazy.
And as I pedaled up the street the burrow lies on, I gave up and phoned Rudi at home to ask him to come open the door for me. He went a step further and acted as my crew — came and took the bike for me while I groaned at each painful step downstairs behind him.
I was useless the rest of the evening and am still a bit sore today.
But the total journey was impressive — just under two hours of riding (which means there was also 45 minutes of stopping along the way) and 18.6 miles (the book lied). Since my career-high is about 22 miles, that was pretty impressive for me. But definitely no more double-digit rides again until next weekend when my legs and back have forgiven me.
When I was in seventh grade, we had a grade-wide fitness competition. We jumped rope, did some ridiculous number of situps, and ran various relay and distance races. When we got to the hurdles, I started out and managed to stumble into one instead of over it. I got a face full of dirt, a cut knee, and the laughter of my classmates for my effort.
But I was stubborn. And I got back up and, in the second round, I came up with the best hurdling time of everyone.
These days when I run into hurdles, I tend to get down on myself and psyche myself out of getting back up for a second try. There are easier things I can do instead, I tell myself, so I avoid stretching to reach a goal that could be beyond my reach.
So today, I will remind myself back to think back to seventh grade, stick a bandaid on the cut knee and sore pride after my public faceplant, and take another shot at getting over the impasse.
I may not win a prize or have my name highlighted for all to see when I do eventually make it through the course, but I will know that I didn’t roll over and give up. Which should be enough for me.