summer ammo.

I started the season feeling a need to beat the summer, as if it had taken war with me (it had). This meant a necessary reach into my bag of weaponry.

I am not a particularly violent person. I'd much rather concede knowing I am right on the inside than put up a fight with a fighter. I don't compete with others well. I usually step aside and let them pass. I fail at Monopoly. This shifts as the temperature gauge goes higher. Summer brings out my inner warrior, and the only weapon I've had to use with consistency against the inconsistency of the world is running. It's been my antidote for a long time, and this summer, I've planned for it to be my grenade.

And then, after many runs in near one-hundred degree heat, no injury or exhaustion, I pulled something in my calf while sleeping. I suffered after effects of a charlie horse gone bad the night before a thirteen mile run; The summer had called in back-up. I toyed with concession.

Though I am not giving up, I am altering my course. Isn't that what they do in the war movies? Reassess their strategy, take inventory of their enemy, adjust accordingly? And part of my adjustment is to remind myself of my other summer time goal: enjoy, as a child enjoys.

I accomplished this with zeal yesterday, as my body zoomed down the pink Silver Bullet at Big Splash, right after exiting the Lazy River that had followed a run in with the Master Blaster.

A message to Summer: I've got back up, too.