Seventeen miles felt much like a marathon this morning. Having a running partner makes the miles easier, but the more I talk out loud to myself, my legs seem to know I'm alone up there. Every now and then I had to remind myself of the old saying, "if it hurts, you're working too hard." Then I'd let my arms dangle, shorten my stride and concentrate on how lucky I am, here and now, instead of fretting about there and then.
I keep playing with the apples I mentioned a few postings back. More than 20 quarts of applesauce later, I recently turned to apple juice (which offers a noteworthy byproduct, applesauce).
As I ran today, visions of not the usual waffles kept filling the cartoon balloon floating above my head. The clincher was, about 5 miles from the finish line, an odor drifting from a roadside woods. For years I thought apples were teasing me. Now I know better, the villain is pawpaws, which smell much like apples. Instead of the oat cereal or waffles that normally follow my long run, two seasonal favorites would cleanse my palate -- freshly picked sweet corn with Karen's home-made cheddar, followed by apple dumplings to be manufactured immediately upon my return.
"I thought you were going to say pawpaw pudding," says Virginia.
There's a thought, except a little pawpaw goes a long way with me. Besides, they're not quite ripe even if I smell them. Soon their time will come.
The Bowman Women; A Work In Progress
1 month ago