He wears His Height Reluctantly.

So, hockey is finished for another season at our house. Okay, hockey as in minor hockey..there’s still Junior High hockey which is sort of like the Hunger Games, but without all the fun of dying. Each team battles it out on the ice for the supreme ultimate title of Winnah. I’m not sure what they ultimately win except bragging rights to being the Junior High victors, but I guess when you’re 14, that’s a pretty big deal. I spent the entire day Saturday watching son play two games of hockey for his Bantam B Minor hockey team. In the final game of the championship, they were beaten badly by 10-0….ouch. However, they did get silver in the supreme ultimate “Bantam B Provincial Blah Blah” title, so that’s awesome. I enjoyed watching son play, but it was quite stressful at times and I was bowing my head to the Gods of Hockey to bless him with sudden 6’7” height and behemoth mass, (a tall order, pardon the pun, from his 5’almost 2” height and 93 pound stature) in order to survive the onslaught of the other guys who actually DID look like they had been acquired from a NHL team …ugh. He managed and was proud of his play…and that silver thingy hanging around his neck. I was happy to have muddled through an entire day dedicated to a cold arena and too much coffee, and not having to cart anybody off to a hospital or say the fateful words of “how many fingers am I holding up?”
The running season is upon me and I feel its weight every time I step outside. I can feel mine too unfortunately, and I’m battling it out with the road and the cars and the hills and the rocks and the damned little ruts in the side of the road that nearly send me flying on my ass every time I hit one absently or from the wrong side of my foot. I get honks from friends who suddenly realize that it’s me running and not some lost wayward soul out toddling along after her lost dog or little lamb that darted from the farm. Do we have sheep around here? Hmmm…
It’s a struggle and with the weather being all uncooperative and stuff, it just gets me annoyed. On the forecast for tomorrow morning, the morning of my next scheduled run? Snow. Freezing fucking rain. Yay! Strap on the studded running shoes and let’s get out there in the 100 mile an hour winds and the freezing bullets of rain pelting your face until the blood starts streaming from your cheeks and you look like a character gone awry from a Stephen King novel. “Oh, look it’s Kayjai doing her best Carrie impersonation out here…ewww….Is that blood from her eyes???!!! Gawd, take it down a notch will ‘ya? I got kids in ma car”… That sounds about right.
If the weather ever gets warmer than 0, I’ll be the first one to proclaim it Spring. Until then, I’ll have to don ma protective face wear and head outside. This should do it.

The read marks add decoration. Pretty!

The red marks add decoration…pretty!

It’s not half as scary as having bloody cuts from the freezing rain, right? Right? I’ll be sure to wear a jacket that says “Jason’s Machete Emporium” with a pic of a very  sharp object on the back…
Happy Spring, Peeps!

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