Ka-put

Last week I was called "graceful" by someone who saw me running. I laughed and said that they must not have been looking at me correctly. Sure enough, my lack of grace proved itself accurate when I wiped out while running. I don't do this a lot ... I think this is my first fall in a few years. (The last big fall I remember occurred on a 6 mile run in college when John and a buddy just happened to be driving by at the exact moment I wiped out. How embarrassing!) Either way, today's fall was a hard enough ka-put to bruise both my palms, cut one of my palms, cut two knuckles, cut my knee, and get a dandy of a bruise on my left outer thigh. Oh brother!

Scrubs knew something was up. (Maybe it was the huge thud I made and then the yelp!) He started running on top of me and trying to eat the plastic bag I keep tucked into my waistband in case he decides to leave a message on someone's lawn. I tried to explain to him that I hurt everywhere but instead managed to get up and walk the rest of the way home. I also managed to take a quick look around to see if anyone spotted my fall. It didn't appear so, but I know somewhere, someone was laughing hysterically from inside their blinds.

All this on the heels of reading on Tara's blog that she just ran a half marathon. I'm jealous. Tara's a gazelle. (Okay Tara, don't reply to that one. I can't remember what animal you are from Africa, but I don't think it was a gazelle. I also know you don't consider yourself graceful. That's probably true. You are a tad bit clutzy.)

Speaking of Tara, I remember in Africa her trying to do something that required balance and John saying to her, "What in your past would lead you to believe that you accomplish this?" or something like that.

Okay so Tara isn't known for grace, but I think she's more graceful than me. (Don't argue Tara! Just accept it!)

I've actually been a bit frustrated at my body lately. I turned 30 in May and for the first time in my life, I feel like my body is fighting against me. This makes me mad! I have had some swollen joints for quite a few weeks now. John believes that this is the result of a viral infection (I think he said viral -- if I got that wrong, please don't correct me because I really don't care, and dog-gone-it there are too many physicians reading this blog to just let anything slide by.) (That reminds me of the zookeeper last week who said the giraffe at the zoo died from getting dirt in his lungs. She said this was called a pulmonary embolism. I nodded thinking it sounded good to me. JB rolled his eyes and later told me that dirt in lungs in not a pulmonary embolism. Okay. Whatever.)

Anyways, I've had some swollen joint issues. Then I dropped that stupid battery on my foot which has been compounded by a little puppy who finds that a perfect foot to jump on a daily basis. I fell while running, don't forget. Oh and I twisted my ankle at the bay the other day. I was running in the surf and hit the sand funny and rolled the ankle I blew out in high school (Kelly Stegs, formerly Gritz -- you may be the only one reading this blog who was on my team then. Right? Do you remember how swollen that sucker was? I think we were at St. John Newmann? Maybe the former Lisa Cascio is reading this. Were you on that team? Man I'm getting old. I can't remember.) Anyways, I twisted it again. That makes the fourth time since the original twist at 17.

I just sort of feel old. I don't think 30 is old. But when I was 15 I thought 30 was old. I remember that I was 9 years old when my Dad turned 33. I have a memory of me telling him he was old as I gave him his present and then him telling me he was glad to be 33 because that's how old Jesus was when he started his ministry. Does the Bible say that? I'm not sure. Where did my Dad come up with that one?

Another thing my Dad came up with. He told me my whole life that the crust on the bread was the best part for you! I'm sure he did this so I would eat the crust on the bread. But you know, I was 22 and married when JB went to cut the crust off a sandwich, and I told him not to do that because that was the best part for you. John started laughing hysterically and asked me who told me that. Well my Dad . . . well my Dad did and he lied to me! Horrors. Geez Dad. At least correct it when I move out of the house so I don't look like an idiot!

Okay, back to the fact that I am kind of old. So JB has this philosophy that old is 30 years older than whatever you are. I think that is true. I think that 60 seems pretty old to me right now. But when I am 60, that won't feel old. 90 will feel old. Sheesh though. At 90, I think I'll have to admit I'm old because 120 isn't readily attainable. Oh well.

I need to find a band aide for my cut knee.