Chapter 12, Blog 3
By Chuck Wells As Told To Ray Hochgesang
And, of course, I was right.
When the alarm clock rang Wednesday morning, I got up and was the tin man walking. Geri and I had planned to do 10 miles of roadwork up and down nearby Silhavy Road. I considered calling her and begging off. But my coach had warned me that it would take at least 10 days to get acclimated. Until then, I would have to suffer. If I called off, I would just have to restart the clock.
So I crawled out of the house and wobbled the three blocks to Silhavy and waited.
… maybe, just maybe, if you’re lucky, her alarm will malfunction, and she won’t get up, and you’ll have to bag it, you can’t work out without a coach, it would be dangerous, and, and …
And there she was, right on time. Was there a doubt? Really?
Coach did have mercy on me. She jogged most of the way while I limped along on wooden legs that refused to loosen. But the limping slowly smoothed out. My legs came around, and I trotted the last three and half miles. Along the way Geri filled the one-sided conversation with horror stories of what I could expect as my body morphed into a mean, running machine. Predictably, I was speechless, gasping for air.
… where the hell do they get this …
As we retraced our path on Silhavy, the soothing glow of the early morning sun tossed a few rays over the horizon that landed on us. It was glorious. It was inspirational.
It was only Day Two.
Copyright © 2012 by Chuck H. Wells/Ray Hochgesang
