Hi! <Waves>

Funny and honest tales from a made-to-work Dad of three, wobbling, graying, and laughing his way through parenthood. Armed to the teeth with Nerf guns, full of pie, fighting a chocolate addiction, but genuinely honoured to be at least half of Team Parents (yay!).

8 November 2015

Dear Legs

Dear legs,

I'm sorry. 
<Fights back tears>
I'm sorry for all the hurt and pain I have caused you. 

I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust and let you down. We've had so many wonderful times together you and I. You mean so much to me. You literally take me places.

I wish I could change what I've done. I wish I could change what happened and we could go back to like it was before. No one was supposed to get hurt, it was only meant to be a bit of fun. It wasn't planned. It just... happened. 

(Harmless fun…)

I woke up that morning and thought, yeah, let’s go for a jog. I’ll take Boy8 with me, that’ll burn off some of his grumpy extra energy. 
It seemed like a good idea...

I realise now, as I write this, that jogging isn't something I normally do. In fact have ever done. 
I have a car, a bike, a scooter, a teleporter. I don’t need to jog.
Why that day? 
Why that morning? 
I don’t know.

Boy8 was so super keen to go with me, he just made it easier.

Oy smeg face Boy8!
I’m going for a jog before work, if want to come, be ready when I am
<Looks stunned at me>
'Dad, it’s 6:30 am'
Yes I am aware what the clock says
'But you’re awake and making sense, and not shouting'
<Grumbles off>

Amazingly Boy8 was ready when I was and after reluctantly letting the cat in, we went out into the cold morning, a light rain falling, and started to jog.

I'm sorry legs, I know this must be hard to read. 
I just feel that if I can explain myself you’ll understand what happened better and be able to forgive me sooner.

We stretched before we left. Well I did. I was careful. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially me. We were only gone ten minutes. We just jogged, and talked.

Boy8 found the morning world fascinating to see. He loved seeing all the street lights lit, the dew still soaking the world. And I loved just chatting to him like two mates as we jogged around the park. We bonded.

I should have noticed then. I should have seen that when we got back he wasn't even slightly out of breath. He was still full of energy. That was my clue, and like the smuck I am, I missed it.
If we had left it there, no one would have been hurt. Me and Boy8 would have a nice memory of that day when I went mad and we jogged and everyone would have carried on, as though nothing had happened.

You legs, didn't even mention that first time. You were amazing. Not a single complaint. No gripes, no twinges, you took it in your stride (!) and never said a word.
If only you’d had said something...

We jogged again the next day. Yes I know you know, I am just trying to explain. 

I felt great, Boy8 was happy too. 
We chatted and talked about life. My blood was pumping and I was bonding with Boy8 through excise. It felt good. It felt right.
I don't regret going out again that next day. I don't think Boy8 has ever got dressed that quick in his whole life. He was excited just to go out for a jog with me.

It was as we got close to home... the badness happened.
<Pulls self back together>
We were nearly home. 
I could see our house and all we had to do was gently walk home and everything would have been fine. But no. That isn't what I did, is it?
<Looks to heavens>

I raced him.
It was my idea. ‘Race you back to the house pants breath’ I said as I sped off.
How did I forget I'm 30-Lots and it was 6:30 am. 
That’s not my best time of day at all. Or best age.

I raced off confident in my victory. 
But then Boy8 did something that surprised me. I wasn't expecting it. He caught me up.
As I glanced to my side and saw Boy8 easily matching my strides I thought no.
NO bloody way!
Not yet. I am not ready for Boy8 to beat me in a race yet. No!
Not yet.

And that’s when the damage was done. 
I asked too much of you, legs. 
I knew you had more to give. I pushed and pushed. Made you give every single ounce of energy we had. You responded like a stallion and pulled on every muscle and sinew you had. I don’t think we have moved that fast in a long time. We ran as though our very pride was on the line.
<Fans tears from eyes>

And still we lost. Boy8 won. 
<Hangs head>
I thought he would be older when this happened. Me too.
Boy8 overtook me without really trying. He was even smiling as he did it.

(I am fine with being the very competitive additional winner...)

Boy8 celebrated and even did a little victory dance.
Well actually a long and excessive victory dance to be honest. It was tempting to deck him. But I didn't, people were watching it felt wrong.
Instead I patted his shoulder and wheezed ‘well done’, before limping home.

I know you are cross and are hurting, legs. 
I can feel it in my every movement today. I sound like a dramatic pirate every time I sit down at work.

<Trips over own sword>

(That’s gonna leave a mark...)

Maybe, though legs, you could lighten up a little on me. 
You were there too. You joined in.
So lets just forget about all that lactic acid, muscle pain, and just move on with our lives.

Next time we'll prepare better, we'll practice. 
Eight year old's have little stamina and find running up hill exhausting. Their legs aren't strong enough yet. Next race? 
Up hill, jumping tyres, with a back pack full of balloons, and at least a 1/10 mile.

With kindest regards,
Body Overlord, Dictator for life, Grand Decision maker,
Brainzilla X