So. I have no antenna on my truck. I lost it off-roading. I witnessed it fling off the truck and whip into the bushes. When I told my hubby this (months ago), he said, “Nah. You couldn’t have been driving so hard that you ripped off your antenna.”
“Yup, I was, and I’m sorry.”
“No. Look, the threads are still there. Someone must have unscrewed it.”
“No. It came off when I was driving.”
“It’s impossible,” he said. “Someone definitely stole it.”
“Okay, maybe someone stole it.” I didn’t have the heart to keep insisting that it was all me. But when we’re super old, sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch, I’ll bring it up again and come clean.
Obviously, purchasing an antenna is not top priority. The downside is that I have no access to the car radio. This means my truck is now scattered with cd’s. What point am I getting to here? None really (let’s just see where it goes). Today when I ran out to my office to grab yet another cd (because of said antenna), I picked one that I haven’t listened to for years and years. And as luck would have it, the words to one particular song really hit home. It made me feel better about all the stupid mistakes I’ve made running trails. It made me feel better about all my mistakes period. It made me feel better about trying to running 50 miles when I might not be able to, and if I do, there’s not a chance in heck that I’d come anywhere near placing. It made me feel better about trying to do a cartwheel or attempting a black diamond run when I’m a mediocre skier. It made me feel better about losing my car antenna.
The song is called, “You Learn.” And I do learn, I really do. I may not learn as quickly as I’d like to, but I do learn lots running these trails. I learn lots falling flat on my face. I learn lots plopping to the dirt from dehydration. I learn from the rattlesnakes who cross my path. I learn from the people I meet along the way. Trails aren’t all beauty. They aren’t all just an escape. They are little lessons all over the place waiting to be learned. This is why I’ve got to get back, and why I’m taking baby steps to do it.
This afternoon I went out for another “no pressure” run. Again, I took in some elevation, but shied away from the mileage. In all I ran about 8 miles. I brought lots of fluids, and even calories that I knew I would never need. But I brought them anyway. Why? I learned.
Wear it out (the way a three-year-old would do)
Melt it down (you're gonna have to eventually anyway)
The fire trucks are coming up around the bend
“You Learn,” Alanis Morissette