They Say the Darndest Things

I’ve been out of pocket for a bit.  I’ve got two words for you:

Single. Parent.

Coach went to football camp, and I stayed home with G and AC.  G is at the age which requires a full-time chauffeur, and AC took the opportunity to put me through some sort of sadistic parenting Boot Camp.  Every day I would wake up bright and early, and she’d have a list of activities and tasks she wanted me to complete. 

That list included everything from braiding her hair to painting her nails to opening a stationary/gift store for her to own.  (And sadly, I’m not talking about the pretend kind.)  She settled for a trip to the grocery store for dog food and milk, and seeing Ramona and Beezus.  (Which, incidentally, is one of my favorite movies of the summer.)

Anyway, before my absence I do believe I told you about my run last week which ended with a sprained ankle.  I’m almost over the trauma of it, and honestly, it didn’t really slow me down much.  I’ve done quite a bit of running since then.  20.6 miles to be exact.  If you’re a runner, that may not be much, but for someone who hasn’t had a regular exercise program since the spring of 1992, I’m feeling pretty good about it.

But like I said, last week I sprained the ankle.  Thankfully, AC was riding her bike along with me so that she could witness the whole thing and have a hissy fit. 

But what’s ironic about the entire episode is that just a minute or so before I fell she asked me how long a mile was. 

I confidently said, “I have to run about 2500 steps to equal a mile.”  Turns out, that’s not actually correct.  I had to run approximately 5300 steps to cover a mile.  Explains a lot.  It also further illustrates my inability to do any sort of math.

But, she asked, and I gave her the wrong answer.

And then I fell.

And skidded down the street and into a culvert.

It rattled her a bit, she jumped off her bike and flailed her arms around while asking me if I was okay a couple of dozen times all the while looking up at the sky lest she see any sort of carnage.

Once I got up and told her I was fine, she just sort of shrugged her shoulders and said, “Well, at least all that sliding means you don’t have to run all 2500 steps to get home.”

Yeah, at least.

See y’all!

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