It’s been over a year since I last managed a run. It’s hard to get my head round that fact especially as up to that point I would go trail running at least 3 times a week, every week.
But here’s the thing.
Do I miss the blisters – NO.
Do I miss the aches and pains – NO.
Do I miss having a face that you could fry and egg on – NO
Do I miss running up hill – MOST CERTAINLY NOT.
But I miss the feeling of open air and wow I miss the views.
A cold, wind swept day. Definitely two jumper weather.
So it’s not quite sunbathing weather here. We did sit outside for a while. That’s with winter coats on while holding hot water bottles.
While outside we talked. Well when I say talked it was more about trying to reassure Hawklad. He was worried, really worried. April 1st and he had forgotten to say ‘white rabbits’. In Britain and also I believe in North America there is a tradition that saying ‘white rabbits’ as the first words of the new month brings good luck. Pilots had a similar superstition during the last war. Saying that phrase as the first words of each day apparently helped provide protection during the daily upcoming flying endeavours.
Hawklad has been doing the ‘white rabbits’ thing for a while now. I think he picked it up from me one time. I’m a bit annoyed with myself as I try to avoid Hawklad seeing me with any superstitions . Well this month he forgot. I would never give it a second thought but Hawklad was spooked. He takes things very literally. That can be a common personality trait with people with Aspergers. So I tried to reassure him but rather unsuccessfully. I will keep working on that. But it’s so difficult for him. More things to worry about. Life is so complicated…..
A day outside in the – wait for it – warm Yorkshire sunshine……
An afternoon of outdoor table tennis. An afternoon of losing my pride. It’s never been my sport. One of the few sports I can’t pick up.
“Dad Table Tennis is a MARVELlous sport. You do know the sport should be played like a game of chess. Carefully moving your opening around the table until an opening appears. That’s the idea. Your approach Dad is basically the Avengers Strategy. HULK SMASH…”
No need to mess about with the delicate strategy. Why waste time when with one massive swing of the bat you can immediately move to the ENDGAME
“But Dad you are supposed to play with VISION.
Ok I’m out now, you win the pun war. Pick up your crisp packet. If you do then you can be scaAVENGERS hero.
“I never THORt of that one Dad. Best keep the envIRON MANaged. I wonder if anyone else would understand these puns other THAN US.”
*********
Lets not forget the stereotype. Asperger Kids don’t have a sense of humour and can’t have fun ……….
I’ve been trying to practice yoga and tai chi for months now. I diligently watch and follow the videos. All the really glossy and professional videos. I was trying again this morning. Following the instructor through her perfect routine. Even her dog sits beside her perfectly. Never moving. In the background the gentle sound of peaceful music. Perfect.
Meanwhile in deepest Yorkshire.
A muppet is seamlessly moving from one body creak to the next groan. Losing balance and crashing into furniture. Constantly fearing my pants are going to split under the galactic pressure being exerted on them. Every time I hit the ground a mad dog instantly leaps on me and I replay the Bill Murray Ghostbusters scene – I’VE BEEN SLIMED. And no gentle sound of peaceful music here. Rather the sound of derision and laughter….
“What on earth are you doing Dad”
“If this was on TV it would be banned”
“You look a right sight”
“Funnier than a Will Ferrell movie”
“Say that again Dad. Golden Rooster. More like drunken Pigeon”
“Are you supposed to be balancing on one leg or head butting the wall”
“My Dad has turned into Homer Simpson”
“Please never do this when any of my friends visit”
“Your just embarrassing yourself now”
Technically speaking this probably means that I still have a long way to go on my spiritual exercise journey. Or more likely …. time to get the mega pack of biscuits out and vegetate.
Sunday morning in Yorkshire. Like every Sunday morning for over a year now. Not enough sleep. Get up. Feed the pets. Exercise. Housework. Give Hawklad his breakfast. Feel frustratingly hemmed in. Isolated. Overthink life.
But eventually I start to breathe. Remembering what is important in life. In my life. Remembering those personal treasures that are so close to my heart. That always lift me up. That make me smile inside and out. And I realise just how truly fortunate I am.
Yes it’s been a typical Sunday. Well almost
It’s not RAINING…
WE can do this.
When we first moved into our little bungalow on the hill we had a beautiful Daffodil patch on the shared area in front of our house. At the time I would never have thought that 20 years later I would still be here. Certainly not still here as a widow and a single parent.
Over the next few years the daffodil patch seemed to flower less and less. The daffs would appear each year but more and more would just not bloom. The area was becoming such a shadow of its former self. Eventually I planted some new bulbs and now there is colour again.
This morning it dawned on that there is a message to all this. Life happens and sometimes things fade and leave us. But with patience and hard work life can happen again. That works for the daffodil patch and it works for me as well.
I’ve always loved winter sports. Definitely my favourites are biathlon, ski jumping, skiing and ski cross. One of my dreams is to see it in person one day. Still waiting….. November to March is great as I get to binge watch it on TV. But when March comes it’s always quite sad as soon the season will be over. No winter sports for 7 months.
That thought has been praying on my mind. 7 months is a long time. What to do.
I’ve looked for some Winter Sports DVDs and Books but there isn’t much about. So I have a stock pile of 3 books and one dvd documentary. Plus one game on the Xbox. The probability of our family lockdown continuing through those 7 months is really high. With no trips out. No runs. Just feels like I need more this year to keep me going.
“Dad what are you doing?”
I’m trying to see if I can do GARDEN biathlon.
“Really. It looks like you have gone mad…”
No there is method to my madness. I’ve dug out my two old walking poles. So to pretend I’m Nordic skiing I’m going to use the poles to walk round and round the garden. About 30 times round the garden is about 1km.
“Ok how long is a biathlon thing then”
Going to start small first. The Spring is 10km with two shoots. So I would do 100 laps of the garden between shoots.
“I think I can see what’s coming next but ok, why have you got my Nerf Gun.”
Well after 100 laps of the garden my pulse will be racing just like a Biathlete. So I will need to control my breathing and steady myself for the shoot. Ok I don’t have a rifle and five circular targets. So I’m putting some tins on the fence and I’m going to try and knock them over with your foam Nerf bullets. For every miss I will have to do a penalty loop or in my case 5 garden loops. The first shoot will be prone and the second will be standing.
“OMG Dad. You have cracked.”
So from April one of my daily workouts every week will be my Biathlon competition.
“You have lost the plot”
Most probably Son, most most probably. But just be thankful I’m not trying to recreate Ski Jumping. 😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣
Well after many many weeks its gone. Our own lake in the farmers field has finally gone. We’ve had many of these lakes in our time here but not one this big or so long lasting. It’s provided many photo opportunities and we have grown very fond of it.
It will be back. Hopefully not during the next few months. If I does then Spring and Summer have been monumentally bad.
Until next to our unnamed lake, enjoy the rest.
I don’t know why but as soon as I saw our morning sky I immediately thought of two opposing medieval armies preparing for battle. Just waiting for the mist to lift before they crash into each other.
Our area has had so many bloody battles dating back to Viking times. Who is to say that these very fields have not witnessed that grim sight.
Today’s grim sight was restricted to this unshaven, unkempt Bloke with zero fashion sense leaning against the fence. Coffee cup in hand, exposing his partly covered hairy legs to potentially the ghosts of the past. I guess in years gone by I would have opted for the kilt look. Need to get the air onto those ‘airy knees.
Mist is an apt way of describing my current thinking this morning. After a year of lockdown (now just two weeks short of that anniversary), I still can’t see the way forward. No nearer establishing when (or if) Hawklad will feel able to return to the outside world. Is it school or permanent homeschooling. Will my job survive. When will be our next holiday or excursion. Are my dreams on hold or permanently cancelled. Will I ever get to where my heart desperately wants to go. Is that it for concerts or football for us. When will we see friends and family. Is that it for hugs. Is the world still out there. Has anyone even noticed that we aren’t part of the crowds anymore.
A pandemic year and I still can’t answer those questions.
Mind and hope mist.
That is not a great feel.
Wow how tired did I feel this morning. Definitely the Yorkshire Zombie. I just couldn’t wake up which is just perfect on the first school at home day for over week. I could just about manage walking into walls, nothing else. In a desperate attempt to wake up before I might be needed to check Pythagorean calculations I crawled outside. The fresh cold air and a coffee would spoon the business. It was only after a couple of minutes that I realised that the mug with the steaming hot coffee was still in the kitchen. I had brought out the jar of instant coffee……
Clearly under 3 hours sleep is not enough. The frustrating thing is that my mind is whirling too fast at night and virtually not at all in the morning. If only that was the other way round. As hard a I try sleep is will only come to me around 4am. Sadly on a school day the alarm goes at 630am.
That is a recipe for Parenting Zombies.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 