CONQUERING CRESTWOOD - Part I

 

I went for a run with C yesterday the kids came with us and we perused our way through our town and picked out our future fixer-upper homes, as if we were both made of money. We finished our run at her house and after swapping birthday party ideas I re-packed Layla up in the Chariot and I casually mentioned that I was going to jaunt up Crestwood and then down the highway back home. Before I turned off C's side street I was already wishing I had bit my tongue and just headed straight home. But too late, I said it out loud and I had to prove to myself that I'm not the slob that I feel like when I look in the mirror. 

So I ran, trotted really. Barely even a jog. Up Crestwood, I steered Layla toward the eastern mountain range and passed the quiet cemetery. Should I hurry and turn around and take the short cut home before I'm too committed? "No Sday! Keep your feet moving, I don't care if a speed walker could pass you. You are not a quitter." I continued to push. Push myself, my legs, my heart, my baby... up the steep hill. Another jogger rounds the corner from Thornfield and heads up the hill in front of me. I try to catch her and the only response my legs will give me is the threat to seize up. My glutes and hamstrings were revolting against this sad attempt to redeem myself after eating an entire bag of D0ve chocolates... but I ignored their message. I pushed harder. She disappeared. "Who cares, she's not pushing a baby up the hill with one hand." 

I scope out each repaired crack in the road, covered in a thick stripe of tar. It's the perfect temporary finish line, just make it to that next crack.... and then the next, and the next. I think of stopping.