What We Talk About When We Talk About Not Running

My daughter, her man, and her daughter live only a few blocks from Mile 14 on the Twin Cities Marathon course, where the flag marking that milestone is right across the street from an aromatic coffee and doughnut shop.  Because of my injured foot, I decided, late on Saturday evening, that there would be no marathon for me--no run, no medal, no finisher t-shirt.  And no regrets. 

Christopher Kipyego wins the TCM--from Star Tribune

It was fun to watch the runners come by; I'd never seen the front runners on the course before, and they were clicking along like clockwork, finishing in 2:14 for the men, 2:32 for the women.
I've been reading Haruki Murakami's book on running.  He's the author of several works of fiction, and although I have enjoyed them, this one seemed self-indulgent and meandering in a way that I didn't care for, but it kept my interest well enough to finish.  He deals with his own injuries in the book. 
On the drive back from dropping off the pooch for care while we were gone, we had a surprise when a coyote dashed out of the ditch and got clipped by the front of our car (knocked out the fog light!).  He wasn't to be seen afterwards, so his injury was not fatal, at least not instantly.  But his running certainly would be hampered.  I hadn't seen a coyote for a long time. 
It's been tough to deal with the injury to my foot; I didn't think too much of it the day it happened, out on a last long run two weeks before the marathon.  But as my foot rolled, something popped, and it had me instantly worried, but it didn't seem too bad.  And there were no real lingering effects.  But then another run and some time on my feet out in the garage seemed to bring it back a week later.  It's been hurting since, but getting better. 
Still, a short jog along Lake Hiawatha and the after-effects of that seemed to say, "don't run."  So I didn't.
But the trip was a good one, and we got to see the growing little granddaughter, a real peach.  The weather was good, and we enjoyed some good company and a little fun shopping.  Then, as usual, we made a stop at the cool apple place on highway 169 and picked up some tasty root beer. 

Two good root beers.  My Dang! was better.

So, when we talk, we can talk about all that, and not so much the not running.