Unlike last week, I had no problem not running today. Maybe it was because I was really busy or because my 9+ mile run yesterday took a lot out of me.
I didn’t run, but I did stretch. I don’t know when it started–probably when I began running–but whenever I’m standing around waiting for something, I stretch. Touch my toes. Do some calf raises. An occasional squat. When I’m waiting for my daughter outside of her school, I stretch. In line at a coffee place, I stretch. During halftime at one of my kids’ basketball games, stretch. Is that strange? Does anyone else do that? I’m not sure. I imagine that random people–like other parents waiting outside of the school—know me as “stretchy girl.” “Oh look, it’s stretchy girl, stretching again,” they might say.
Makes me think of my old neighborhood. Years ago, there was a woman who walked all the time and all over the place. For hours, it seemed. She didn’t walk in a casual way, lazily ambling along, or with a smile on her face. She walked fast and with determination. And she looked really mad…all the time. My neighbor down the street dubbed her, “angry walker.” “Did you see angry walker today?” he might ask and then add, “well I did….about five miles away. She looked pissed!”
I’m sure that I stretch partly for practical reasons, to loosen up my muscles and stay limber. But I also stretch because I’m restless. I have trouble standing around. I want to move. When I’m in a line, if I didn’t stretch, I’d probably just wander off (which is something I do do if my husband is in line too; he waits, I wander).