Rocky Creak

For as long as I can remember, my father has run the local Turkey Trot race on Thanksgiving morning. He sets out early in my mother's least favorite outfit of his--a "moisture wicking" windbreaker jacket, a headband to warm his ears and protect his eyes and Armani glasses from sweat, special running spandex (at least it's not the shiny kind...), in addition to the usual Asics sneakers (he's worn the same model for approximately 10 years). If you're getting the impression that he's a creature of habit, you're not far off the mark. And for the last 5 years or so, I've declared that I would run the race with him on Thanksgiving. It is perhaps needless to say that this bonding activity never transpired.

Of course, I had my reasons for not running, year after year. After all, my father had run marathons, but I was no runner. I swam competitively in my formative years (more than doggy paddle, mind you) and was in terrific physical shape, until I quit swimming. I told myself my body needed a rest, and that I'd get back in the water after a month or so. Well, that month became 2 months, became 6 months, became a year, and suddenly I was not only out of shape for swimming, but also out of shape in general. It was depressing to look in the mirror and see a shell of the athlete I was. A very large shell, no less, and it wasn't just thick fur. So the main reason I never ran the race was because I was never in shape to run 5 miles come November. Around April or May each year, I'd have visions of running glory with the theme song from "Rocky" blaring in the background. 5 miles? No sweat, I'd tell myself! I'd simply build up my mileage during the summer and fall and be able to keep up with Daddy in no time. But then there were also aches and pains with which to contend. I shouldn't push the arthritis, I told myself. Wouldn't running the Turkey Trot just exacerbate all my daily creakyness? In addition to all these preventive factors, it rained on Thanksgiving a few years. And obviously, I couldn't have run in the rain! Inconceivable, as we learn from the character in "The Princess Bride." This lameness was compounded by the fact that my birthday, a creakyness hallmark, often falls on the day after Thanksgiving

But New Year's Day of last year, I started over. I was tired of being so out of shape that a brisk walk left me breathless. My lack of physical activity worsened my stiffness worsened my arthritis worsened my daily disposition. It was time to take charge. Charge! "Cannon to right of them,/

Cannon to left of them,/ Cannon behind them,/ Volley'd and thunder'd." But my honor was not but to do and die, with apologies to Tennyson and the noble six hundred. I was determined to break the cycle of self-destruction.

And so I began to run--short distances, at first, and quite slowly. But come April I was actually increasing my mileage. Yes, I often felt creaky the morning after, but overall, my body was responding very positively to the increase in physical activity. Come September I had already run the Turkey Trot distance multiple times with no problems other than continued stiffness. But unfortunately, that goes with the territory these days. Come October I tried a route similar to that of the race, packed with steep hills. I thought I was going to die halfway through and contemplated lying down on the path. The dirt would be comfortable, right? Just walk, my inner devil said in a relaxed, easy drawl. You could even sit down and enjoy the nice weather! You can always try again tomorrow, he continued.

But I kept running. There will always be days like that, when it's a fight just to keep going in the direction you began. Ultimately, arthritis might slow me down, but it's not going to stop me. There's a newfound freedom in hitting the open road, running along the water, jogging in the company of deer, squirrels, rabbits, and what have you. Thanksgiving is less than 1 week away, and I'm ready to run with my father, rain or shine.