I Like This

Week One - Day Two
I went to the track at a junior high school near my house to run on Saturday. When I pulled up, I was delighted to find no one else running and no dogs in sight. I was a bit dismayed to see some people playing baseball at the backstop in the middle of the track. Don't get me wrong, I like baseball. My siblings and I used to play a lot with a neighbor or two on the flatest spot up on the hill. I even remember going to a house across town to play a friendly game with a bunch of kids from town. I'm not a bad hitter but after I hit that ball, I get scared. (I'm not sure I knew I was such a fraidy-cat until I started writing this blog. Almost every post talks about something I'm afraid of.) I get scared the ball is going to hit me in the head. After I hit, I'm running to the very place that someone is trying to get the ball to as fast as they can. I may as well be yelling "Hit me in the head with that ball! Here I come! I'm getting as close as I can! Hit me!" as I run to first base. I've actually covered my head as I've run with both arms before.

I was determined to run though. Where there's a will, there's a way. I kind of softened too when I saw that it was actually a dad pitching ball after ball after ball to his teenage daughter. That is sweet. He was helping her with her batting practice. Aw. So I turned on the podcast and started the five minute walk to warm up. I get even more relaxed when I saw how considerate the ball practicers were. When I got in the range she was hitting in, they would wait for me to pass. Aw. I realized that when they saw me walk over, they were probably as excited to see me as I was to see them...and they were still considerate. I really appreciated that and was really starting to enjoy myself. I like the workout. It's not too hard but it's not too easy. It's just right for where I am at. I started to really relax and enjoy the run. It gave me a chance to think for while and I started wondering about this "baseball hitting my head" fear. It's actually fairly ironic. I'd play softball in PE and for intramurals when I was in middle school. I was always the pitcher. I was pretty good at it. I tried a few years back to resume that role but that is way worse than running to base and worrying about my noggin. I was actually throwing the ball that I fully expected to come flying back in my direction as hard and fast as the batter could make it go. Playing pitcher didn't last long that day. I don't play baseball/softball anymore and I certainly am not the pitcher at any game. When did I get this fear and why? I don't remember seeing or having any sort of tragic experience -- maybe that's the problem. I've just had one too many hits to the head to remember.

I was about 3/4 of the way through the workout when the dad started hitting them. I watched as three in a row zinged right at my head level across the other side of the track. I was headed right there. Was he going to stop or was I going to get knocked out? I started to panic and then decided that I was going to just pretend it wasn't happening to me. Someone else was the one running this track with death balls flying through the air. (I did this because I knew that this wouldn't bother someone else. So everything is fine, right?) Again, when I got to the danger zone, they stopped batting and went to shag balls. Whew. Narrowly escaping death was energizing and I ran that last interval so hard. It felt really good. The whole workout felt nice. It felt so nice that I even kicked a ball toward the daddy-daughter duo to help them gether their balls (I couldn't throw it at them. They had been so considerate not to hit them at me, I couldn't possible zing one at them!) . I went home really energized and excited to run the next time. I hope the track will work out as a regular running spot.