Wednesday, August 09, 2006

A "ruff" run

Several of us had to be places this morning by 8:30 so Reagan and Keaton got right on their running. I had to get dressed, so they ran alone. Reagan came in when expected after her run, but Keaton followed soon after; quite unusual for our little slow-poke.

After she was quizzed as to the actual number of laps she completed, and it became clear that she was shy by at least one rotation, Jimmy volunteered to go back out and run with her.

Our collective gasps were deafening, I'm sure.

This is the same man who, when I gave him 5 sessions with a personal trainer at the fancy gym he joined (and went to only once), asked if he could trade the sessions in at the gym's snack bar. This is the same man who doesn't want to "waste heartbeats" by going up the stairs when he can send someone else; the man who text-messaged Sutton last night at work, suggesting she bring home cake batter ice cream with brownie so he wouldn't have to go all the way there. He does not like to exercise and will find any excuse not to.

I followed Keaton and him out the door (in my pajamas, I was so concerned) as I reminded him that he is on high blood pressure medication and his cholesterol is out of whack. I jokingly told him to remember his "heart condition," which he doesn't have, but I suggested we needed to buy a defibrilator so I could jumpstart his soon-to-be dumbfounded heart.

But he went and he ran and he survived. When he returned and we all recovered from our shared astonishment, the kids began complimenting him on this somewhat momumental athletic feat. Reagan mentioned that if he could make one lap today, tomorrow he could probably make two.

His response was priceless: "Baby, those laps are like dog years for old people like us. One for you equals seven for me!"

When we all finished cracking up, Jimmy had his bowl of cereal, placed a few trades on the computer, played with Landon and went for a massage.

Maybe those laps around the neighborhood are like dog years for him, but today, being at home and not on the road working, allows him a much-deserved, yet short-lived, "dog's life."

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