Me and My Crazy Friend

She did it to me.  Again.  What a flippin’ pain in the a$$.

© Photoroller | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Photoroller | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Best Friend Ever sent me the following text Tuesday night: btw… signed up for the RI 6-hr again… can ya come help pace me?

The girl is asking me if I’ll pace her for a six hour run.  Because she’s nuts, and I’m a sucker for her kind of crazy, which she knows.  I was supposed to pace her for the same run this past November, but my hip wasn’t cooperating, so I just went and hung out in the transition area for a few loops, cheered her on, watched her brother pace her.  Ya’ know, the next best thing.  Regarding November 2013, of course I said yes, although she’s only “penciled” in on my calendar.  She’s lucky that she even made it on to the calendar six months out.  (I have social commitment issues, brought on by having two children and never knowing what their schedules will bring.)  Penciling her in does not in any way mean that I will run the entire six hours with her.  I might aim to show up for latter half, when she’s exhausted. J  However, a “yes” is a “yes.”  Mentally, I’ve already put myself on the hook.

I say that she did it to me “again” because Best Friend Ever talked me into running my first half marathon, which of course, she didn’t end up running with me.  Instead she spent two hours walking around Newburyport, Ma with Big Man.  It was a really nice day for the two of them… Whatever.  Best Friend Ever is faster than I am, so it’s not like we would have run together anyway.  But here’s the thing, as much as I hated that race, I knew as soon as it was over that I would run another one.  Six months later, I did.  Even though I rolled my ankle at the nine mile marker of that second half marathon and ended up running a minute and a half per mile off pace for the last four miles, I hated it way less than the first time.  I still dropped five and a half minutes off my previous run time.  I was actually excited to get back to training.  Maybe a little too excited.  A longer break may have been the way to go.  During my second post half run, my right hip froze up.  (Apparently, that’s what getting old does to ya’.)

That was the beginning of the downhill slide for the summer.  There was lots of PT, x-rays, an MRI, and multiple visits to the orthopedic surgeon.  All for an end result of, “your right psoas muscles is totally inflamed, just like we thought, but we can’t see any reason why.”  Awesome.  Just as soon as I started getting back on track and thinking about training for specific races, that f@$%ing dog bit me.  (For all of you dog lovers out there, sorry.  He will always be “that f@$%ing dog” to me.)  It wasn’t the most terrible dog bite ever, but it certainly warranted a trip to the ER and stitches, where every nurse and doctor told me “Don’t let your kids see that, it’s awful.  They’ll be afraid of dogs forever.”  One even added, “Have your husband run them to Dunkie’s for breakfast and come back for you.”  Ummm… thanks the reassurance?  Nonetheless, now I am way gun-shy about running alone and have only worked my way back up to three and a half miles by myself.  Sure, I get a four miler in with Betty on Wednesdays, and I am usually getting out there three days per week.  That’s still a long way from hitting two five milers, a distance run, and a recovery run every week like I was at this time last year.  I have definitely allowed myself to get off track as a runner who would like to do some more half marathons.

I suspect that Best Friend Ever is on to me.  I suspect that somehow she knows that I desperately need to get my $hit back together and need a good swift kick in the a$$.  I can’t confirm this, but considering the fact that her mom was the first to call me out, months ago, I’m guessing BFE is on to me as well, and probably has been for a while.  Conversation with BFE’s mom last November went as such.

BFE’s Mom:  How are you recovering after the dog bite?

Me:  I’m pretty much better.  It still hurts to touch, but it really doesn’t hurt otherwise.

BFE’s Mom:  That is not what I meant, Jen.  A dog bite is much more of a psychological injury than a physical one.

Now her daughter has texted me twice in four days about pacing her for crazy long runs.  Best friends and their moms are good like that.

Saturday afternoon’s text from BFE went like this:  hahaha!! luv it! Wanna come run 5-hr w me tomorrow? 🙂

Which was followed up by Tuesday night’s text, as seen above.  Girl is definitely crazy, no doubt.  Maybe she isn’t on to me at all.  Maybe it’s just her crazy.  But her crazy is contagious.  I better get to getting my $hit back together, ‘cuz she just did it to me again!

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