Another week....

This is starting to become a ritual: spending my early Saturdays writing about Not Running rather than Actually Running. It is dark and rainy out there right now (4:41 in the morning). Dare I say I'm glad to be in the warm house with the computer on my lap rather than slogging around out there in the wet and gloom? Am I getting soft?

I used some of my free time to change the layout of this blog. Add some blue. Shake things up a bit. Change is good.

Aside from the whole Not Running thing, life is good, too. The kids and I started our homeschooling routine, such as it is, this month and it's going surprisingly well. Basically, we are unschoolers, which is a catchall term for homeschoolers who do not follow a prescribed curriculum.

We didn't start this way. Last year at this time, our first year homeschooling, I spent quite a bit of time forcing the kids to do workbook assignments: math, grammar, spelling, history, etc. The workbooks were mostly (I thought) for Nell's benefit. She had gone to public school for kindergarten and first grade and always seemed to enjoy her workbook assignments. Her teachers never gave any indication otherwise. So it came as a shock to me when she so vehemently opposed all of my assignments. We were both miserable. This power struggle lasted about a week. In order to preserve our good relationship I gave up.

I am forever grateful to Nell for holding her ground and showing me that she and her brothers are fully capable of learning everything they need to know without the assistance of workbooks, thank you very much.

Though I must admit that I insist on a page of math per day. This is a bit of a departure from the Radical Unschooling Terms of Contract, but I do need some structure in my life. And I think the kids need the math. We use an offbeat, highly visual book and we do it together. Sometimes it's even FUN.



I am amazed at how motivated these kids are to learn stuff, despite their relative freedom. Last week I pulled out a geography game about the Fifty States that my mother picked up at a garage sale a couple of years ago.



They must have played that game fifty times by now, first with me, then with each other. Simon likes it so much he plays by himself against his stuffed animals. They have made books about the United States and they jabber constantly about their Favorite States. (Simon: California, Nell: Connecticut, Ben: Mississippi).

We raided the library yesterday for books about the states. This "phase" will probably last a couple more weeks (last month it was musical instruments), and then they'll be on to something else. My job is to constantly supply them with the books and materials they need to keep the fires stoked. You just never know what will catch their fancy. That states game has been sitting around here for a year. Why now? Who knows.....

Homeschooling is actually kind of a misnomer. As anyone who homeschools knows, you don't spend all that much time at home. We take lots of weekly or monthly classes out in the community: piano, violin, horse, two different nature centers, art, yoga, farm, karate, gymnastics. Nell plays on a soccer team and swims on the swimteam, both of which I help coach.

We have been very lucky this year to meet up with a group of unschooling families on Mondays. This group has been together for years and we are thrilled to be a part of it. The kids get regular contact with other kids and the parents with other adults. All much needed (homeschooling downside: it can be isolating) and all good.

Anyway.......why all this talk about homeschooling on a running blog?

I tried running in the deep water on Wednesday, but it hurt my foot. It didn't hurt while I was doing it, but it did hurt later. That is the extent of my running news. Boring and unproductive.

Here's hoping I'll be out there again in a week!

A little perspective

I saw the Bill the PT today. Things are looking better. The swelling is almost gone and my tendon barely hurts when Bill twists my ankle as I try resist him. Baby steps. He says I can start running in the pool (Woo Hoo?) and kicking with the kickboard. This is good news because my I feel like my legs are atrophying by the second. I'm looking forward to working them out in the pool tomorrow.

Aside from my third pregnancy (couldn't run: dangerously low placenta), this is by far the longest I have gone without running. Thankfully, most of my worst fears have not come to light.

I have always looked upon running as a sanity preserver. Without the daily run I thought I would quickly spiral straight out of my mind.

Not a big jump, really, but still.

I am pleased and somewhat proud to say that I have kept myself together pretty well. I miss running, sure. I miss it terribly. It feels like my best friend has packed her bags and moved away. But, like anything, it gets easier with time. The ache is not as acute as it was. I am through the woods, so to speak. And I am just beginning to feel the first bright glimmers of hope that my friend may be coming back. I hope she comes back soon.

A lesser fear: that without running I would blow up to the size of a typical Wal-Mart shopper.


(Sorry, but I have lately been appalled by the number of hugely obese people I have seen out in the community. And I don't even go to Wal-Mart. Big fat parents with big fat kids. Makes me endlessly sad and frankly grossed out. What is the deal with all the hugeness out there??)

I have not ballooned. I think I am eating quite a bit less since I stopped running. Swimming and lifting have taken up the rest of the slack. There has been no marked difference in size. I remain right in the meat of the BMI. Not falling behind; not showing off.

So far....

And of course there is the silver lining: The Weight Room. I love going there now! Nice people, fun exercises, good workout. I am working all the big muscle groups (squats, push-ups, rows, hammies and quads), as well as doing some bracing core exercises with the medicine ball. I even went out and bought a medicine ball at a used sporting goods store. Mercy!

When I start running again, I will definitely maintain a Tuesday/Thursday swim and weight routine. I want to stay off injured reserve for the rest of my life, and I'm not getting any younger. I've hit the post-40 slide. Time to fight back!

I found a series of good videos about core training for runners on the Running Times site. They give you a series of videos to follow. The first one is mostly about The Plank (most hated pose but oh, so good for you). So far I have only watched the video and cheered for the featured runner holding her well-muscled self off the ground by her elbows. But I hope to perhaps try some of the videos Very Soon.

Onward and upward. And thanks for all of the kind words during this ordeal, for putting up with my boring self-pity. You have no idea how much it all helps....

Saturday morning again

....and I'm not running. My ankle doesn't hurt. Time to get out and run!

Not.

I'm still in the recovery phase, evidently. Need to wait at least until Tuesday. My PT says he sees the whole spectrum of people in his practice. He said "Here we have the people who will not do anything no matter what I tell them. And here (he takes a couple of steps to the right and reaches waaaayyy out there) we have you. We have to tie you down to make you stop."

He says he'd rather deal with my end of the spectrum. Good to know he doesn't think I'm a complete whack-o.

I just walked the dogs for an hour pain free. This is an excellent. I saw a snippet of an article about Erik Skaggs and his kidney failure following his victory at the Where's Waldo 1ooK. If I find the article I'll post it here. The writer asked him how he would cope with Not Running during his recovery. He didn't seem to think it was that big a deal. He said something like, "All that matters is being outside." And he's right. If Erik Skaggs can deal with a running lay-off, so can I.

The swimming/lifting regime is going well. I am getting more familiar with the weight room and starting to chat a little bit with the other people in there. And I keep bumping into people I actually know, which is fun. I am getting lots of double takes: "What are you doing in here?"

It's a whole nuther world in there.

On the non-running front, yesterday I moved donkeys to a new pasture and herded sheep at Terra Firma Farm. So you see I'm not completely useless, although some of the sheep DID break free from me and get into the cabbage patch. Alas.

Can't wait to run again. I can almost taste it!

Getting Happier, if nothing else...

My name is Pam and I have not run in 14 days.

Before that, 9 days.

HI PAM!

I saw the PT yesterday and he thought I should wait another week. No biking, no running. (Which meant I had to cancel my biking date with Bob. Sorry, Bob.) I agreed with the wise PT because I really and truly want to heal this darn ankle and get on with my life. The upside: I can swim and do weights. So I am at the pool every morning at 5 and in the weight room right afterwards. This is enough. I can live like this for a couple more weeks.

But man am I itching to get outside and run. The weather this week is stellar. 70's, no humidity, bright sunshine. Custom late summer weather. Brian is out there running right now. As we speak! And I am missing it.

But there are bright spots. Yes indeed. The house (if you ignore the piles of stuff on every surface) is clean. The bathrooms do not smell like pee! This is huge, because we have 2 small boys with iffy aim. I am caught up on laundry. I am not exhuasted all the time from all that aimless running, so I bring the laundry up from the basement right away rather than letting it languish for weeks in piles next to the dryer. Progress, people! Progress.

I have started reading a huge, studious biography. I sat down the other evening and thought to myself: Who would I most like to get to know better? And the answer was....



Benjamin Franklin! So I am reading Benjamin Franklin: An American Life by Walter Isaacson. I'm taking bets on whether I finish it by Christmas.

Homeschooling got started this week and it's going very well. A little math, a little writing, a fun geography game and the rest of the day is free living and learning for all. Hooray! I love homeschooling. This is our second year and it feels solid. I no longer feel like a pretender. We are an unschooling family. And that's the way it's going to be.

Nell had her first outdoor, full regalia horse show last weekend. She loved it.



With the exception of a slice of pizza with Canadian bacon, I am still vegetarian. I have not had a serious meat craving in a month. Weird.

Speaking of which.....it's time to get dinner started. What, what, WHAT shall it be??

And on the 7th day.....

She biked. For about an hour and a half on Thursday afternoon. It felt good. Nothing hurt.

And now, this morning, after all of that deprivation and relatively good-humored despair, my leg hurts. Just a little, but still.

This is starting to get me down. I really did think a week of No Running would take care of this problem. Obviously I was wrong, because here I set with an ice pack on my leg and no prospect of EVER RUNNING AGAIN.

Yes, I'll run again. I'm just having a few moments of weakness, after all. But when?

Having not run for most of the summer, I am still trying to understand the lure. Why this need to constantly move forward? To feel the ground under my feet in that very specific thump-thump way that nothing but running provides. I yearn for the thump-thump under my feet. For the pleasant, stare-inducing exhaustion that comes after a good, long run. Just for the feeling of moving at a decent pace across the earth for hours at a time.

No, this isn't life or death. Yes, I am whining. I have so very much in my life to be thankful for, and Not Running has highlighted much of that. And assuming I do return to distance running (yes, for goodness sake, you will), I will be ever so grateful for that first long run.

I saw a new physical therapist this week, because my usual PT, Bill, is on vacation. She said this to me: "You're almost there. It's getting much better. You should be running again in two, three weeks!"

WHAT?

Okay, breathe. You'll live. You'll run again.

The upside of all of this is that I have finally gotten myself into the weight room. I saw a trainer this week for an hour and she showed me some great stuff. And my book arrived (thank you for the tip, Helen).


It's called The New Rules of Lifting for Women. I like the premise: forget toning, forget spot training, don't worry about bulking up because it probably won't happen, just get into the gym and go for it. The authors present six to eight months of great workouts to be done in succession, highlighting the big muscle groups. Once I can safely do a squat (I'll have to ask the PT about that), I begin the regime. I'm actually, weirdly, looking forward to it.

And now I feel better. Just walked around and let the dogs out and my leg feels fine. I want to go back and delete all of that whining up there, but I won't. Let it stand. I hope to go back some brighter future day and see how ridiculous I was. Move on.

Up side: I wasn't out running when this happened. (Yes, we have a bright plastic Slip n Slide in the yard. Sorry, neighbors!)






Or this. (The Country Fair for Nell's last day of camp at Terra Firma Farm.)



Or this. (How do these children survive each day intact??)


AND I cleaned the house and got some of our homeschool stuff in order. Who needs running when life is as rich as this?

Day 5

For twenty minutes yesterday morning I fell off the wagon: I ran.

Well. If you want to call slinking amoeboid-like around the block at a snail's pace running, then I ran. Around and around the block, maybe eight times. My foot/ankle/shin felt fine, but my head did not. That little bug is still holding on. It was not what I would call a great run. I don't even think it counts. Let's forget it ever happened.

I stopped, felt much better and headed back to the Y for some more weights. I got to the weight room around 7:30. There were a few elderly women working the machines and that was it. The free weight section (usual hangout of the grunting, banging mass of muscled humanity) was empty.

I started through my circuit: twelve reps at each machine, three complete cycles. I noticed that the other ladies spent more time at each individual machine. They did two or three sets at a time, resting for up to five minutes between each set. This seems very inefficient, time-wise. And it tends to gum up the system. I had to move past them as they sat at their machines staring into space, thinking about God-knows-what.

Here is what I learned from the experience: I am weak!

As I moved from machine to machine, rarely did I have to change the weight load pin. And when I did have to adjust the load, more often than not it was to a position of Less Weight. You know what this means, don't you?? This means that these soft, innocuous, elderly women are as strong, if not stronger, than I am!

I got to the lat pull down machine just as it was being vacated by a waddling, gum-chewing geriatric fairly bursting out of her polyester pantsuit. I sat down, grabbed the bar above my head, prepared to pull it down and to my horror discovered that I COULD NOT BUDGE THE BAR!

Pathetic.

On my way out I made an appointment with a personal trainer to meet me tomorrow morning for a one-hour weight session because clearly I need some help.

Bob said yesterday that I should probably take more than a week off from running. He thinks I should take a month off. I wonder what that would be like: not running for a month. Before this summer it was rare for me to take even a single day off. Running has become such a staple in my life over the years. The idea of taking a full month off is unimaginable.

But then, I used to think that taking a week off would send me to the loony bin. Maybe it still will!

Is running an addiction or a lifestyle? I have often tried to imagine what I would have done with myself if running had not always been such a mainstay in my daily routine. What would I have done with all of that time? What kind of person would I be? What sort of friends would I have?

It's a moot point, obviously. But still......

Days 3 and 4

Day 3: Weights!

I do not belong in a weight room. I have no idea what I am doing in there, because I have never made the effort to learn. I have read enough to know that proper form and appropriate weight load are essential, but my knowledge ends there. I know just enough to make a trip to the weight room at the Y intimidating, almost a fool's errand. Everyone in there seems to know exactly what they are doing. I look at the free weights, the balls, the mats, the machines and it all feels like an insurmountable Everest of unexplored terrain. Perhaps I'm just too dumb to be a weight lifter!

I should probably try to hire a trainer, but that sounds crazy to me: expensive and time-consuming for a person with very little time or money to spare.

Where does one BEGIN?

I slunk over to the Y on a beautiful Sunday afternoon because I figured the weight room would be sparsely attended and I was right. There were just two women on the machines and a couple of bulky lunkheads grunting over the free weights. (You see my level of intimidation: those lunkheads are probably Rhodes Scholars, but I must take comfort in age-old stereotypes just to get myself in the door.)

I opted for the machines, mostly because the seats and straps more or less force you into the proper position. This was probably the best place to start. I did 3 complete cycles of the Cybex machines: abs, arms and legs. I worked efficiently from machine to machine and the whole business took about 45 minutes. By the last round I felt shaky and weak, but not overwhelmingly exhausted.

While I was working out, our local Gym Rat (GR) came in and started chatting. Every gym has one of these guys: he is ALWAYS there. He chats up all the ladies and makes buddies with all of the young weight room studs. GR had heard that I ran the VT 100 and he started asking me about it (as I was laboring intently under the Lat Pulldown) in a voice loud enough to be heard around the gym. This caused a small sensation among the lunkheads: "Dude, that's a WHOLE 'NOTHER LEVEL!" Nice people, really. Definitely helped me feel much more at home.

I was not as sore the next day as I would have imagined. If I can get out today, I may go back and try another round on the machines.

Day 4: This Not Running business is getting harder. My ankle/shin/foot feels much better. I really, really, REALLY want to get out and give it a test run.

Mornings are the most difficult. Typically, I am a morning person and thus a morning runner. I hoof through town in the pre-dawn dark while the kids are sleeping. I absolutely love this time of day. And I feel safer running early in the morning than late at night (my other option). I figure all the axe murderers are probably home sleeping it off by 5 a.m.

But I persevered. I got up early, got some good writing work done, and resisted the urge to tie on my running shoes and head out the door. The boys, as always, came bolting down at 6, eliminating the possibility of escape.

Brian goes back to work this week (Waaaa), so he is trying to pack in quality kid time before school starts (he's a physics teacher). All three kids are currently obsessed by musical instruments. Simon in particular spends every waking hour drawing instruments, playing orchestra with his Webkinz, and incessantly asking anyone and everyone: "What instrument do you want for your birthday?" and "What's your favorite instrument that we don't have?"

Simon, for some reason known only to him, really wants a trumpet.

So Brian decided that this was the day to take the kids to the Caruso Music in New London. Caruso's is a wonderful store with a tremendously indulgent staff. They do not freak out when the kids bang the drums, strum the guitars, shake the tambourines and play the pianos. I decided to go along as well, because I knew if I stayed home I would run.

We spent almost an hour testing instruments, mostly drums. I am always hyper-vigilant with the kids in this place because I do not want to test these good people's patience. They really are amazingly enthusiastic and good-hearted. We fitted Nell for a violin (she desperately wants to play the violin) and they will call us when a good half-size instrument comes in.

Simon kept eying the trumpet in the window.

"Can I look at the trumpet?" has asked me over and over.

"Yup, " I replied over and over. "Go ask the guy at the desk if you can see the trumpet. He's very nice."

I do want these kids to learn to ask for what they want. I am terrible at this. I figured this was as good a place as any for a little assertiveness training. Simon, however, disagreed. He wanted me to ask for him. We went back and forth like this until he finally summoned up his courage and requested a few toots on the trumpet.

"That's a very expensive orchestra trumpet," the man at the desk explained, "but let me see what I have over here."

He pulled a dusty case from the shelf and handed it to Simon. "This is a trumpet that a friend of ours refurbished for some kid interested in music," he told me. "He (indicating Simon who was very excitedly spinning the trumpet in his hands) seems to fit the bill. I don't feel right trying to sell it."

He turned to Simon, "You can have it," he said.

Nell just had to verify: "You mean we can bring it home for FREE?"

"Yup. Enjoy!"

Wow! Simon was beside himself. He thanked the man on the way out ("Thank you for giving me this trumpet!") and preened proud as a peacock all the way back to the car, trumpet case swinging by his side.

This is how he spent the rest of the day!



Not Running in the afternoon and evening was amazingly simple. Brian and I both seem to have come down with a little bug. We both had sick bellies and sore heads. And we could barely keep our eyes open. So we put on an Emergency Video.


(I never do this. The last time I put on an Emergency Video was last Christmas Eve when I was desperately trying to finish my annual Buche de Noel cake for Christmas dinner).


Brian and I crashed out for an hour, ate Raman noodles for dinner and called it a night. I cannot believe I have not run, biked nor swum for four days. So weird that this is something to be proud of!

Day 2

Not Running was easy today. Staying Awake, more difficult. Man, I was sleepy all day. I finally gave in at lunchtime. Brian was home, so I slunked up to bed and slept for 2 solid hours. I probably could have slept more, but enough was enough. I think my body is shutting down. This healing process is exhausting!

I took Eddie for a 3-mile walk on mostly flat ground. (Hills give me trouble.) My ankle and shin were a little achy at the end and remained achy for most of the day. I iced it quite a bit and tried to keep stretching my calf.

I went grocery shopping in the Saturday crowds with all three kids. Pushing a loaded cart with one boy hanging off the side, another boy riding underneath and a girl tossing stuff in is an endurance event all by itself!

I looked in my book The Lore of Running by Tim Noakes.


He says that complete rest is not necessarily a good thing. His logic: any injury that heals during complete rest is likely to recur once you resume running, because your newly healed injury is not used to the stress of running. I can see his point. He recommends running to the point of discomfort and then stopping. I may try this in a couple of days. Run around and around the block until the first glimmer of pain. See how it goes.

But first I do think I need to stop everything for a while, get all the kinks out of my leg. Every muscle along the outside of my right leg from ankle to hip is knotty and tight. Not good.

I am trying to strengthen my core. Today I did a bunch of sit ups and push ups (hard to do with a four-year-old hanging on for the ride) and tried to do some pull ups. I can't even do one. Pathetic. When I was a kid I could do 50. Ten years ago I could do 3. Now I can barely pull myself half way up to the bar. So I pull myself up as far as I can and try to hold it for 10 seconds. This is tough.

One....two....three.....four..five..six.seven.eightnineten!

We have a chin up bar hanging above the basement steps. I'm going to keep at it until I can do 3 again. Brian says my arms are getting soft. Not flabby, he says, but soft. He never says stuff like that. (He knows which side his bead is buttered on!) Hmmmmm. I may have to go to the Y tomorrow and try some weights. This is a radical step for me. I hate lifting. All those lunky meatheads grunting and slamming scare me silly. We'll see.

Late in the afternoon we headed to East Beach in Watch Hill, RI, which is about 20 minutes from our house. We are not beach people, unfortunately. We are more mountain people. I had a long talk with Brian about moving to the mountains last night. We are going to start looking into it. We need a cool town with good schools for Brian (and possibly me) to teach in.

Burlington, VT anyone?

But we did go to the beach last evening because Hurricane Bob out in the Atlantic is kicking up some killer surf. (I had the good camera with me, so click on the photos to see them Really Big.)


We were greeted by an ominous No Swimming sign, but the lifeguard was letting people hang out in waist-high water. The waves were not Hawaii big, but they were incredibly strong and unrelenting. One after the other: Boom, Boom, BOOM. The undertow was fierce. You can see all of the foam in these pictures. This is not normal.

Brian is a big, strong guy and it was all he could do to stay upright in some of this surf.


Nell and Simon had a blast getting tossed and rolled in the shallow water. They want to go back again tonight.




Ben was content to stay by the surf's edge and play in the sand, even though castle after castle got washed away. I have never seen the tide come in as fast as it did during the hour-and-a-half we were there.

Personal Challenge!

It's six on a Saturday morning. I have been up for a couple of hours working in the early morning quiet before the house buzzes into action (which will happen very soon). Normally at this time on a Saturday morning I would already be two hours into my weekly long run.

Alas. This has been the Summer of Injuries. With the exception of the 100 miles I ran in July I have not done a long Saturday morning run since June. Here I sit during my all-time favorite run time, early Saturday morning, doing my desperate best to NOT RUN, to REST and to HEAL.

My current trouble is tendonitis in my anterior tibialis (tendon that connects the big shin muscle to the inside of the ankle). This is the tendon that pops out and looks like a bridge between your foot and the front of your ankle when you flex your toes.



The pain started half way through the Vermont 100. The last 30 miles of that race were excruciating and slow. I aggravated it by running the Ocean Beach 10-miler two weeks later, and then further aggravated it by carrying 45-pound Ben up and down the lovely trails of Crawford Notch last weekend.

At this rate this thing is never going to heal. SO. I have set myself a new and difficult challenge. I am going to attempt total rest. I am not going to run, bike or swim for a week. And to keep myself accountable I am going to have to bore you here with daily updates of my PROGRESS.

Not Running is not so difficult. Running hurts. I never thought I'd say this, but I am actually getting used to Not Running. I see people running down the street now and I think, "Stop! STOP! Don't you realize, you idiot, that you are absolutely ruining your anterior tibialis tendon! You could be doing PERMANENT DAMAGE!"

I realize that I am projecting here. I know that I am forcing my own jaded solipsism on guiltless and unsuspecting innocents. But it helps.

Not Biking, it turns out, is tougher. Biking itself does not hurt, but I don't think it's doing me any good. My whole shin feels achy and out of sorts for a few hours after biking. So I am going to stop to see if it makes any difference.

Not Swimming will be easy as pie. Starting today at noon, the pool is closed for a week for its annual scrub down. All I have to do is tie myself down until noon and I'm home free. Easy peasy lemon squeazy!

My new Total Rest regime started yesterday, and, as it turns out, not well. The boys and I walked the mile and a half to their six month check-up at the dentist. Of course, they insisted on taking along their favorite animals for moral support. Simon brought his spotted dinosaur (Spotty) and Ben brought his twin cardinals (Cheeky and Sinky).

Because Ben kept dropping his cardinals, I suggested that he put them in the side pouches of my backpack, facing out, so they could have a nice ride and view the passing scenery. Ben uncharacteristically agreed.

When we got to the dentist's office, Simon proudly showed off Spotty to Ruth the receptionist. Not to be outdone, Ben pulled out Cheeky. And when he went to pull Sinky out from the other side of the pack, he came up empty. We had dropped Sinky!

Out jutted the lower lip. Brave tears popped into his eyes and fell. Ruth and I looked at each other. "Go," she said. "They'll be fine here."

So I was forced, FORCED, to run back along our route looking for the little red cardinal in my street clothes and my four-year-old Mary Janes.

Sinky was not on the half-mile stretch of Main Street with all the stores. I went part way up the steep hill back toward home. I told myself I would get as far as the library before giving up. At the library, I squinted up the hill, and there at the top was a tiny patch of red in the street.

I found Sinky!



But now I had to hoof it back though town because I had five minutes before the drawbridge was scheduled to go up. Getting stuck by the bridge would be a disaster. The whole process of putting the bridge up, allowing all the boats to go through and putting it back down can sometimes take fifteen minutes. And my wee boys were waiting for me back at the dentist's office!

Reader, I made it. I was roiling in sweat and all out of breath, but I made it.

It was a grand reunion. And I must say that running in the Mary Janes was not that bad. No support. No cushioning. No pain! Maybe those barefoot folks are onto something after all.

Later in the day we went to the Y to swim in the pool because we don't have air conditioning and it was hot enough here to melt lead. Brian did laps and I played with the kids.

Well. Maybe I did a few laps. But just because I was cold. I was freezing. Shivering. I had to swim to warm up. Otherwise I may have died of hypothermia and left my children bereft and scarred for life.

Oh, and I may have done a bit of aqua-jogging. But I hated it. So it doesn't count.

And I spent three hours constructing a peach pie (we picked peaches Thursday), which turned out not okay, but not great. I'm not a big fan of cooked peaches. They remind me of leaner times.

Can't wait to see what today brings in my new life as a slug on the big couch of life. Any suggestions?