“Hey, girl, how ya doin?” These words breathlessly appeared from nowhere while I was out running last week, and I full-throttled it to get away.
Police bulletins and newspaper articles have reported that there’s been a groper and a peeping Tom around my neighborhood lately, so I’ve been sticking to the main roads for my runs. Right now, I needed to get away from this creep. But, no matter how fast or how far I ran, the words followed me: “Thanks, girl, for what you’re doing for me.”
Oh my God, I thought, panicked. What is this? Who is it? How do I get out of here?
I shifted into high gear. Gotta leave Mr. Creepy in the dust.
No such luck. There was the voice, throaty and determined, like it had gotten stronger. Damn!
“You’re doing great. Keep it up.” The voice purred right with me.
“Darn you!” I exclaimed, finally realizing where the voice was coming from and why I couldn’t outrun it. “You scared me half to death!” I wondered why I hadn’t recognized the voice before.
It was my bones.
My bones and I make a mean team when we’re out running. But usually they’re my silent partner. They probably decided to speak up today to give me an extra jolt as I prep for the half-marathon I’ll be running soon. My bones like to encourage me. Normally they’re on the sidelines, and they don’t sneak up on me like that. I guess I wasn’t giving it my all, and my bones knew I needed cheering.
Sometimes I envy these bones of mine. They have the best personality. My bones are sassy, fun-loving, funny, healthy and fit. They know how to live life to the fullest, and they’re always full of gusto and vitality. Dangle a pair of running shoes in front of them and they’re ready to go.
It wasn’t always this way. For awhile we had to take medication for osteoporosis, because my bones got brittle and fragile. During that period they were a little annoyed with me, and they didn’t speak to me very often. Even if they had, I might not have heard them, being that they were pretty frail. Of course, I couldn’t blame them. They thought I had neglected them.
But running, calcium, medication and all the things my bones (and my doctor) said they needed got us to where we are today. Pals, BFFs, partners, and that’s how it’s gonna stay. As long as my bones talk to me, I know we – and they – are good.
“Hey, Bones.” I say, stretching against the biggest oak tree I’d ever seen, and hoping there’s no groper on the other side. “I’ll race you!”
Love them bones!