So I dropped my shoe today...

Don’t think dropping a shoe makes for a decent blog entry? Think again…

After what seemed like an entire dreary season of rain and powerful storms (read: one week), the sun finally appeared in the sky today. Being the type who needs a ton of natural Vitamin D in my day, I chose to spend my lunch hour reclined on the deck, shirtless, with book in hand.

I hopped down onto the chaise (thanks, gravity), pulled my legs into the reclined position and reached down to remove my shoes and socks (yep, my feet are wicked white and need the sun, too). All was going as planned until one shoe decided to head off on a walkabout. It squirmed from my clutches, bounced over the rail and off the deck and settled into the grass below. Thanks, wandering shoe.

Most of the able-bodied world would simply reach down and grab it (or jump off the deck or climb down the three stairs or …). For me, the three foot vertical distance between me and my left shoe might as well have been the difference between the parking lot and the summit of a Colorado fourteener.

No worries at that point…I shrugged it off, enjoyed the sun, finished the book and nearly dozed off in Vitamin D bliss.

When I realized it was time to get up and go back to working for The Man, I processed what getting the shoe back onto my foot would entail. And then it got interesting.

To unite me and my shoe for an exciting afternoon of “under desk sitting,” I had to successfully develop and execute a long and complicated process of related and successive events. I had to make and complete a plan. I needed more time. I had to expend unplanned Friday afternoon energy.

So I climbed back in the chair, lifted both my covered and barefoot feet onto the foot tray, repositioned myself properly, took off the brakes, rolled from one deck to another, moved around the house, coasted down a ramp onto the grass, turned left, made my way around the house into the backyard, passed by a couple of well-watered perennial gardens, trekked across the lawn, bent over and grabbed my shoe. Success. 4 minutes and 35 seconds from start to reunification.

I put on the shoe, turned 180 degrees and reversed the process.

Since it was Friday afternoon, I didn’t miss much when I finally arrived back at my desk fifteen minutes late.

When you are in a wheelchair, you have to stay flexible, you have to expect the unexpected, you have to roll with the punches and absorb the bounces and falls. And you have to appreciate the unplanned left shoe walkabouts. It’s just the necessary way of life. Inches become miles and keeping it together means rolling outside the box.

I had a great afternoon when all was said and done. I justified a few extra minutes in the sun and squeezed in a bit of off-road wheeling.

The yard looks awesome, too.

Thanks, wandering shoe!

Bye.

In the bag...

Outside a friend's running store the other day, I noticed a woman wearing a 2009 Boston Marathon shirt. It's hard to miss 'em since they are neon yellow. The label "2009 Boston Marathon" down the sleeve is a clear sign, too.

If you know me even a little than you know that Boston is one of my favorite races. Me and Heartbreak Hill have history. And I like the city, itself. I roll with the potholes and love that Dirty Water. The only landmark I can't find is the Old North Church.

I wondered if Boston was special to her, too. Since it was a nice day and I was feeling friendly, I thought I'd ask. I rolled up to her, pointed at her shirt and politely queried, "How did you do?"

Simple question. Or so I thought.

She straightened up, pulled her shoulders back, looked down on me and began an absolutely amazing, five minute, "it's-all-about-me" soliloquy response...

"Well, this was my t-h-i-r-d Boston and I nailed it this year. I did my first two Bostons to see if the course really was what it was cracked up to be but this year I ran it just knowing it was easy. I finished faster than ever so you might say I mastered the course. I easily qualified for next year but I don't know if I'll go back. I don't really think it is everything people say it is."

So why are you wearing the neon yellow long sleeve shirt on a hot Saturday afternoon in a strip mall parking lot?

Oh yeah, I didn't realize you were a Kenyan marathon champ either.

I know some runners have egos. Lots of athletes do. Self-confidence is as important in sports as it is in life but there is a fine line between being self-confident and overtly flaunting cockiness and achievement.

And stupidity. Did I mention we were in a random strip mall?

I tried to give her a break. Maybe I was being a bit too overly Beantown protective for my own britches.

What really got to me was that as she was finishing her pontification, she asked me, "Is the Boston Marathon something y-o-u might like to try someday?"

Uuummmm...what?

Sure, I'll admit I had a fruit smoothie balancing on my lap but come on lady. You cannot seriously ask a question like that and not expect to get a reply rammed down your throat now can you? I know I'm in a wheelchair but do I look totally malnourished and withered? Game on.

"Well," I kindly replied, "I was in Boston this year, too...Let's see, it wasn't my best time nor was it my worst. After doing it seventeen times [pause here for emphasis on the number seventeen], I was happy with my race and even more excited to enjoy the city. Boston on Marathon Weekend is simply incredible, isn't it?"

She didn't get it. I wasted a perfectly pointed sarcastic attack on someone with a big mouth and no ears.

So when I realized this really wasn't a conversation and she really wasn't hearing anything I said, I came in with a nice parting shot. "You know, this year's shirts really do make you stand out in a crowd. I saw you from a mile away and I'm sure that wasn't your intention. Maybe I'll wear mine so I can stand out. I'll have to open mine first...I think it is still in the bag."


Bye.