Yes, indeed, I’m a four sporter.
If you count my activities over the entire weekend. And if you are generous in your definition of athletic endeavors.
On Saturday I ran for 12 miles. Hot. Steamy. Hilly. The other runners in my group were training for fall marathons so they were going long Saturday. I was just doing 12. So I said goodbye to them at mile 6, wishing them a good run and then turning around. I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I felt good. I felt strong. Then along about mile 8, whoa. Where did all my energy go? It turned into a bit more of a struggle. I guzzled Gatorade and dumped cool water on my head at the last two water stops. My right foot started to hurt. Now cut that out.
I gritted through it, though. Finished the run and headed home.
That’s when my generous-definition of the fourth sport took place. I have an old friend from high school who is visiting the area and we invited his family to join us for dinner on Monday. That meant that an intense burst of honey-dos and housecleaning were the order of the day for Saturday and Sunday. Scrubbing toilets, mowing the yard, putting together some new dining room chairs, grocery shopping and cooking dinner for my mother in-law on Saturday (The menu: grilled flank steak with greens on bruschetta, peas and mixed mushroom pasta, and a delicious Malbec to wash it down. I have been on fire as the Oz-family chef, lately, if I do say so myself.). All the activities took a toll. I was a tired beast.
Then Sunday afternoon. The third sport, sort of. Swimming. The Ozlings were overflowing with energy. The littlest Ozling could not sit still to save his life. Running in the dining room. Running in the living room. We had to do something to channel all that energy or he was going to get in trouble. Family tension was higher than normal. It was hot outside. Let’s go to the pool. Granted, I didn’t exactly put myself through any strenuous lap swimming, but I was in the water, swimming about with the Ozlings. And watching the little guy go off the high dive. Speaking of that, earlier this week we had a bit of high-dive drama. The little Ozling intentionally did a belly flop off ….the High Dive! Why? To impress an older girl.
The move elicited differing reactions in our household. Did you cry? I asked. No. Awesome! That must have been cool. What were you thinking? Mrs. Oz asked. You could have broken ribs, you could have been hurt.
Then today I had a more legitimate fourth sport. I had the day off from work so I got reacquainted with another old friend, my bike. Did 15 miles. It was hot. It was steamy. But it felt great. Once again, I am amazed at how good it feels to hop on the bike when my legs are sore and tight from running…and housework.
You probably won’t see this four-sport combination in the next Olympics. But if they add the competition, I am sure to be a contender.
If you count my activities over the entire weekend. And if you are generous in your definition of athletic endeavors.
On Saturday I ran for 12 miles. Hot. Steamy. Hilly. The other runners in my group were training for fall marathons so they were going long Saturday. I was just doing 12. So I said goodbye to them at mile 6, wishing them a good run and then turning around. I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I felt good. I felt strong. Then along about mile 8, whoa. Where did all my energy go? It turned into a bit more of a struggle. I guzzled Gatorade and dumped cool water on my head at the last two water stops. My right foot started to hurt. Now cut that out.
I gritted through it, though. Finished the run and headed home.
That’s when my generous-definition of the fourth sport took place. I have an old friend from high school who is visiting the area and we invited his family to join us for dinner on Monday. That meant that an intense burst of honey-dos and housecleaning were the order of the day for Saturday and Sunday. Scrubbing toilets, mowing the yard, putting together some new dining room chairs, grocery shopping and cooking dinner for my mother in-law on Saturday (The menu: grilled flank steak with greens on bruschetta, peas and mixed mushroom pasta, and a delicious Malbec to wash it down. I have been on fire as the Oz-family chef, lately, if I do say so myself.). All the activities took a toll. I was a tired beast.
Then Sunday afternoon. The third sport, sort of. Swimming. The Ozlings were overflowing with energy. The littlest Ozling could not sit still to save his life. Running in the dining room. Running in the living room. We had to do something to channel all that energy or he was going to get in trouble. Family tension was higher than normal. It was hot outside. Let’s go to the pool. Granted, I didn’t exactly put myself through any strenuous lap swimming, but I was in the water, swimming about with the Ozlings. And watching the little guy go off the high dive. Speaking of that, earlier this week we had a bit of high-dive drama. The little Ozling intentionally did a belly flop off ….the High Dive! Why? To impress an older girl.
The move elicited differing reactions in our household. Did you cry? I asked. No. Awesome! That must have been cool. What were you thinking? Mrs. Oz asked. You could have broken ribs, you could have been hurt.
Then today I had a more legitimate fourth sport. I had the day off from work so I got reacquainted with another old friend, my bike. Did 15 miles. It was hot. It was steamy. But it felt great. Once again, I am amazed at how good it feels to hop on the bike when my legs are sore and tight from running…and housework.
You probably won’t see this four-sport combination in the next Olympics. But if they add the competition, I am sure to be a contender.
1 comment:
Post a Comment