Wednesday, May 5, 2010


When I visited Sadie in Idaho last summer, I was a runner. She was not. She'd go to the gym with me and hike with me, but the few times I tried to get her to run with me, it just wasn't happening.

But since I've been down with this (grumblegrumblegrumble) heel injury, she's picked up her running shoes. Oh, and roller skates, too, since she's now a derby queen.

This weekend, she ran her first race, a 12K. She loved it, of course, and came back with this little story:

About .5 mile from the finish I heard a man clapping and hooting (like a gazillion other spectators). "You're all amazing, keep going!" he cheered, "Almost there, it's a blessed miracle you're running today!"

I turned my face to send him a weary smile, and I saw him; an old man, perched awkwardly on a stool. He was an amputee.

It's hard to run and cry at the same time. fyi.


  1. Omygod. I'm all veklempt. Plus, I feel like a total asshole for being too lazy and uninspired to go running more often. I'm all, "It's haaarrd." But I have feet, so I should stop being a whiny bitch.

  2. I am going to remember that story the next time I'm bitching my way through my run.

  3. What she didn't mention is that it was his arms that were amputated.

  4. UM: Sooo ... what was he clapping?

  5. Wow. What an amazingly kind thing for him to do.


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