TheBanyanTree: I'm officially an athlete

[Monique Young]

And this brings me much joy, despite the pain, because I've never been much
of an athlete. But there it is, in black and white: "Black toe, or black
nail, is a condition frequently seen in athletes (especially runners) . . .
"

 

Wow. Who knew? Certainly not me. I did know that sometimes I overextend the
natural inclination of my toes to rest comfortably on an ottoman or some
such wonderful device, but I've never, not since high school anyway, ever
been mistaken for an athlete, and even then it was thought that I could run
fast only because I was in mortal fear for my life. 

 

My toes have been black since my vacation, which was also a marathon walking
experience. That was two months ago. And they hurt, but they were starting
to get better. The black was fading to a lovely dark purple, and I could
actually walk without experiencing pain at times. Each excursion to the dog
park ended with me whining about my toes, but that's just the way of the
world around here. I'm always whining about something. (If they gave out
medals for THAT, then I'd have something.)

 

Then I went on a heart walk Saturday. Team Philips, that's what my t-shirt
says. Philips Medical Equipment. I don't work at Philips, and I don't know
anyone at Philips, other than Barb, and I haven't seen nor talked to her for
several years. But she sent me an email and did I just do my standard
minimum pledge and move on? No. I most certainly did not. I signed on to her
team because Lord knows, I certainly don't get enough exercise on my own.
And I set a goal to collect a couple hundred bucks, but then I had to raise
it when my first goal was met quickly. Sometimes all ya gotta do is ask. 

 

And all along I'm thinking, "am I crazy? I get winded going grocery
shopping. After a visit to the dog park I need a nap. My knees are bad,
though exercise is the best thing for them, my toes are black, I whine when
I'm tired, and I've had this nagging pain in my lower right quadrant, right
where they removed last year's defective equipment." 

 

That's my self-talk. Not the most illuminating, is it? Or perhaps a bit too
illuminating?

 

Anyway. So Saturday morning I joined the long line of cars waiting to get
into Qwest Field. The irony of ten thousand people driving to a central
location to go for a long walk together was not lost on me, but I refrained
from mentioning it. I find that most people find it perfectly normal. As I
parked the car and limped to the elevator (I suppose I could have taken the
stairs, but that might have taken some energy, and I was storing it) I was
hoping that exercise would help the toes. Alas.

 

So we had a pep talk. Speeches. I collected my t-shirts, and put one on. I
saw Barb, who was busy organizing her team. Then we all left Qwest Field, en
masse, and gathered at the start line. This was a rather loose
configuration, obviously. And we started walking. 

 

It was a scenic walk, along the infamous Seattle viaduct on the way north,
and on the top level on the way back. The viaduct is old and crumbling and
there's much controversy over what to do with it now, but on Saturday it was
closed to traffic, which was a good thing since there were 10,000 people
walking on it. (When I later told Stew I'd been walking on the viaduct his
response was, "And it didn't crumble?" which at first I pretended to take as
a slur against my monumental weight.) I walked alone. I left my group behind
somewhere. I don't walk well in packs. I fear not being able to keep pace.
Lagging behind. Huffing and puffing, or walking slowly on my ever twisting
ankle and sore toes. On my own, I can walk at my pace and not think about
it. I can admire the view. Despite the rain the day before and the clouds
that would descend later, Saturday morning was clear and sunny and the
islands across the Sound were quite visible. 

 

I can watch the other walkers. I can think my own private thoughts. I can
think of who I'm walking for. My friend Barb, who had a major bypass a
couple of years ago - despite always being very physically active and in
great shape, but who was now leading her team in this walk. My other friend
Barb, who recently had a heart attack. My Dad, who's had two heart attacks.
My dead stepmom, who had one massive heart attack that killed her within an
hour of the first sign she even had a problem. My grandmother, who died of
heart disease quite a long while ago. Others. Then I thought that maybe I
was just walking for myself. Lord knows I'm too young to die. 

 

I finished the walk with a limp, as was to be expected. My ligaments just
don't work as well as I'd hope. I went home and put my feet up. I raised
some money. So I'm not an athlete. I can at least take a walk.

 

M