Today we put a dear friend to rest. She never spoke to us except for a high pitched squeak. She ate all our vegetables. She pooped more than is imaginable for a living thing her size (yes, I am jealous of that).
Ken is really broken up about the whole thing (yes, her coffin is a Pearl Izumi shoe box. That can get filed under…You Know You’re a Running Family When…you bury your guinea pig in a running shoe box):
The dead is the famous famous Betty Sue:
I think she might have won the world record for the longest living guinea pig. She was alive for 8 years. I found her in a still, peaceful and very rigid state on Friday. I’ve never found anything dead before and it was a bit traumatizing (actually, that’s not true. I found my dog dead when I was 16 –poisoned to death. Now THAT was traumatizing).
I am glad that the first (second) time I found something dead it was not a person. Although, did you know that most dead bodies are actually found by runners? Maybe that is an urban legend, but it does seem to happen quite a bit.
At the service in the backyard we all said something:
Me: She was a great guinea pig and a part of our family. She squeaked. We loved that girl.
Emma: What you said.
Ken: She had a good life.
Sam: She was just a guinea pig (he’s 17, can you tell?)
Heidi: (if she could talk) I cannot wait until you all go inside because I going to dig up and eat that dead rodent.
And now we move on.
This was been a good week of running for me. Until today. I did get kind of greedy with my running and ran 6 times this week. Then on today’s trail run my knee hurt and I deserved it for overdoing it. It’s just that when the body feels good and the weather is perfect, you can’t help yourself. Or, I can’t. And here I was just thinking about how long it is since I’ve been truly injured. It’s been about 3 years. I am proud of that. Gotta keep the streak going.
Monday: 4 miles, road
Wednesday: 6.8 miles, road
Thursday: 6 miles, trail
Friday: 3 miles, road
Saturday: 7 miles trail
Sunday: 8 miles trail
Total: 34.8 miles.
Trails are the best:
Today was windy. I was trying to be all hip wearing my visor backwards (could not keep it on in the wind):
I still don’t know what I’m training for. Oh that’s right. I am training for life! For my health! So that I can eat whatever I want! For happy hour! So my legs don’t turn into cottage cheese!
Oh, and I forgot to tell you that last night was Homecoming. Sam’s final high school HC and Emma’s first.
Sam will be 18 in two weeks. When I started this blog, he was 12. TWELVE. Now he is a man-boy who shaves and does other things that some moms don’t want to know about. Damn he’s cute.
The lovely Emma. When I started this blog, she was 8 years old. EIGHT. Now she looks like this. Stunning and radiant.
I keep telling myself, when I get all sentimental and woe-is-me-my-children-are-getting-big-and-independent-and-don’t-tell-me-anything –anymore, that this is what they are supposed to do. They are supposed to fly away from you and you are supposed to cry while they smile, hug you and turn around. If you have done your job as a parent, then they are confident to leave you and to embrace the world ahead.
And when they leave, hopefully you love your spouse enough to be look at him/her and say, “Hey, it’s just us now, let’s go have fun.”
How was your weekend?
Have you ever found anything dead? What/where?
Did you race this weekend? There were a crapload of marathons and some little triathlon in Kona.
When was the last time you were injured?