13 MPH

On Fathers Day, Deanna and I went to Broomfield to spend the late afternoon and evening with Rachel's family. After dinner, but before dessert, we took a trip around the block to stroll past a real estate asset being considered as their future home. Rachel, Deanna, Becca, Eva and I were on foot. Ben and Spencer transported themselves around on Razor scooters. Shortly after we turned right onto what I believe is West 6th Ave we saw an interactive traffic sign which flashes the speed of approaching vehicles. As no motor vehicles were approaching, the sign detected Spencer drawing near on his Razor at a rate of 10 mph. Ben's long, strong strides pushed his scooter to 11 mph. The challenge dangling in the early summer evening tempted Grandpa to meet or exceed the mark. He took a few deep breaths, shifted his weight into a slight crouch and hurled himself into a sprint. He should have been content with his 13 mph effort. But, no, he was not. He trotted back a few yards on the street to try to improve upon his initial effort. He duplicated the 13 mph, but felt a sharp pain in his right hamstring as he stretched toward the "finish line". He walked a little slower the rest of the way back to Rachel's home and essentially forgot about the incident until about 10 days later... when Grandpa's leg started to hurt and turn blue.

This fine digital photo was taken 10 days after the sprint. I don't think I'll be doing any running for a while. An ultrasound exam on July 2 revealed the presence of a 4 x 4 x 6 (cm) hematoma in the thigh.

We're awaiting the results of a subsequent ultrasound on July 7 to compare with the earlier one as the discoloration had been spreading upward.

Having difficulty sleeping due to pain in the right leg, I took a liberal dose of Nyquil one night last week. I sleep better, but awoke with a cramp on the left side just above my butt. The pain from the left side was worse than the right. Discomfort from both sources are diminishing. I'm going to live...

A work colleague, John French, taking a year-long sabbatical from golf to allow his shoulder to heal, imparted a bit of wisdom:

"Wendell, we're not thirty anymore".

I'm not anticipating being the recipient of a major award....