In case you didn’t notice if you were stalking me on IG and FB this weekend, I returned to the Place of All Things Happy. All THINGS Happy. Not all CHILDREN happy. Oh yes, Disney World was definitely a place of all out baby stress this weekend.
Thankfully though, we were able to escape said baby madness and keep things on a more adult level. Well, except for a momentary kiddie lapse into Christopher Robin’s bedroom. But honestly, who can say no to a hunny-luving bear and his bouncy sidekick?
Once I returned home, unpacked, and played with the Wonder Mutt, I had some lingering house stuff to do that I’d been putting off. This included going through a box of crap the hubby had filled with random, well, crap. We’d recently cleared out our spare room and he had thrown a bunch of loose items into a box for me to go through. I figured I better just get it over with and dug in. Would you find it strange the majority of said crap in the box was a bunch of race bibs? I have a habit of writing down the race location, date and my time/pace on the back of each bib. What’s this? A 5k with a 9:08 min/mile? Say WHAT?!?
I even stumbled across the pics I ordered from last year’s WDW Half Marathon. You know. The one that made me stop running for the next four months, just to have a great training period and end up in a major crash and burn for the Great Disney Splash and Dash of 2014? Yeah, that one.
As I weeded through all these race bibs, pictures of not-so-glorious race days gone by, ticket stubs to various vacation adventures, and the ever humorous photos of big, bad, hair days of the 80’s, I started feeling that oh-so-familiar rock in the pit of my stomach. Images popped into my brain of a thinner, faster, fewer lines on the face girl who didn’t know what it was like to feel knee pain, couldn’t spell chondromalacia patella to save her life, or thought ITBS was a new grunge band from Seattle. To say I started feeling a bit sad for those days gone by would be putting it mildly. And – as always – the hubs knew exactly what was getting to me. And – as always – he knew exactly what stupid thing to say to make me laugh, and let me know this injury is just a bump in the road. But damn, these bumps get friggin’ aggravating, don’t they?
If there is one thing I can take away from my little moment of welling in self-pity, it’s this. It’s okay to look back and wish for that thinner, faster, big-haired girl who’s biggest worry was getting her dupa out of bed by noon on the weekends. But it doesn’t do anybody any good to wish for those days back. Everything happens for a reason, and it’s not always up to us to know what that reason is. We just have to live in the moment like the Wonder Mutt – whose only concern is whether or not Mom is going to drop a piece of that wonderful smelling food on the floor. Because, well, DAMN. Just look at how absolutely ADORABLE I AM.
Live in the moment Calypso? Yeah, I got it.
Enjoy the ride.
Do you have one of those photos/race bibs/medals that always seem to hit you where it counts when you least expect it? What was it from? Were you proud of that moment or did it turn you into an even better runner/person/athlete? Do you wish you had your dog’s life?