Running 5K with my dad.

So it's Easter weekend. Which, at least last year, was a total write-off. I'm pretty sure I didn't even attend any Easter dinners really last year, even though I was at my parents' house for the weekend, but I was holed up in a room by myself studying and doing homework. I was so so so frantic with schoolwork last year at Easter I even sent poor Mr. Man and Little Miss off to my in-laws BY THEMSELVES.

I know. I'm a horrible person.

Maybe this school-is-life approach should have been in full force today, but I will admit: I definitely took a "vacation day."

On this vacation day my dear, darling dad had expressed interest in joining me for a 5K run. Now, my dad is not (currently) a runner, though he's been tossing the idea around for over a year now if memory serves correctly. He seems to like the IDEA of running, but just hasn't got into it yet, I guess.

My dad is also 62.

And HILARIOUS. Which has nothing to do, really, with my story today, but it needs to be said. My dad is usually said to be one of the funniest people that anyone who knows him knows. (hahaha follow that?)

So, my 62-year-old non-runner dad, after some rather lengthy discussion about diet and exercise and increasing activity levels decides to run 5 kilometres.

Which, really, I REALLY think he could have done. OBVIOUSLY we would have taken our (very sweet, sweet SLOOOOOOOOW) time to make sure he didn't have a heart attack or injure himself in some way, and gosh darn it, the first time I ran 5K that's exactly what I did. I just did it. I wanted to see if I could and so I did. (It took me 38 minutes. hahaha W.O.W.)

My mother is ALSO hilarious, but for different reasons. She's just adorable, which the horribly cynical, sick, and twisted members of the family (like...all the rest of us?) find quite amusing. Anyway, Mom was CONVINCED that Dad was NOT going to make it back alive if he tried to run 5K with me today. Which I have to admit I took a LITTLE bit personally - I mean, I'm going to SCHOOL for this stuff - I'm not an IDIOT! I know all about progression and injury prevention and blah blah blah - I was NOT going to push him hard, just move him far, you know?? And I was going to MAKE him walk up the hills 'cause while he thinks it's nothing I KNOW they're hard.

Anyway, Mom thought Dad was going to die, and made me take one of our cell phones. Which, I'm sure you can imagine, just looked and felt RIDICULOUS bouncing around in one of the useless pockets in my running shorts. I had to tie the drawstring like, EXTRA tight so I didn't feel, whether in reality or not, like my shorts were falling down!

So Dad and I head out the front door. And he says, okay, let's go! AAaaand I said...NO WAY! We have to warm up (and by WE I mean specifically YOU, Mr!) So I made him walk for a few minutes. We walked to the end of the street - not the longest warm up but not TOO too short, and he was chomping at the bit to get going....

We're sauntering along the road chatting and laughing at how silly Mom is and how awkward and huge the cell phone felt in my pocket.... we talked about some rude kids not saying "please" when yelling to their mother for something from inside the house.

We got to the end of the road, and I suggested we cross to the other side where we would then start our run. We cross the road. All is well. Beautiful, sunny day, HOT (I think it feels way hotter today than it is because it was winter like, last week? Why were the neighbour kids in bathing suits playing in a sprinkler today?? It DID get to 77 degrees on the inside thermostat - I was DYING) PERFECT day and weather for a good run.

I suggested to Dad that since he's the beginner (not that I'm anything to brag about with this sport, please!) he set the pace. And so he takes a few strides.

And then he teeters.

And he starts laughing.

And I SWEAR it was in slow motion, and yet all of a sudden he was curled up in a ball on the ground.

WHAT the heck just happened??

And WHY the heck am I LAUGHING???

My dad FELL DOWN! SERIOUSLY, like, FIVE STEPS INTO THE RUN!!

Ohmigoodness, if I hadn't been laughing so hard I might have been seriously concerned, but I thought he'd just tripped and he'd get up, brush off, and away we'd go!

So he got up, didn't brush off, turned to find the evil culprit that had tried to take his life (darn ROCK! And honestly it WAS a big one, I PROMISE!) tried to walk to it and REALLY limped. Like, a LOT!

Dad? Are you OKAY??

Honestly, I don't even remember his answer, but I DO remember that I didn't know WHAT to do.

We're thirty seconds from the house - do I call for someone to bring the car? Do I just give him my shoulder to lean on and we'll hobble back up the road?

All the while killing myself laughing.

As he was, too, between winces of pain.

I offered to help, asked repeatedly if he was okay, and eventually we had made our way, slowly, back to the house. Where I of COURSE burst through the door in GALES of laugher, walked into the kitchen where the food preparation for dinner was happening, and tried to explain what had happened.

Only to be followed in by my dad, lots of blood, and the rock that made it all happen.

Seriously, TOO funny. My POOR dad!!

He sat down and took off his shoes and socks. And his one ankle was definitely looking swollen.

Thank goodness I'm in an athletic therapy class right now and the ONE THING I feel I've learned really well in it this semester is how to tape an ankle. :) So we checked his ankle compared to the other, checked for fractures or breaks, checked to make sure he'd inverted it (like, stepped down on the "outside" of the foot)....and we're like 100% sure he's actually sprained his ankle.

As the day wore on the pain grew worse. I sat him with his leg up and lots of ice.... and when he was feeling the need to be more mobile I taped him up (I'm an AWESOME ankle taper! Need something else done...maybe get someone else! hahaha But ANKLES I'm your gal!)

Anyway, long and short of it is that my dad is currently out of commission. He's going to try to see someone about it tomorrow to make sure I'm not missing any busted bones or anything, and to get working on rehab as quickly as possible so he doesn't lose any range of motion in it, but he's DEFINITELY not allowed to come running with me again for a few months, at least.

(I ended up running 5K on the treadmill downstairs while he watched Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom - you know, the gross one that makes me queasy all the time with all the bugs and voodoo.... ick! But MMMMmmmmmmmm........Harrison Ford....)

Sorry, Dad. Better luck next time. :)