'Twas the Week Before Christmas

'Twas the Week Before Christmas

 An original poem by Running For Cupcakes (aka me)

'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the town,

Not a sidewalk was shoveled, at even one house.

My laces were tied all tight and with care,

So outside to the roads I went running with dare.

Everyone else snuggled warm in their beds,

Were saying "what is that crazy girl doing?!" in their heads.

Running around the neighborhood for three freezing laps,

Had me ready to take a long winter's nap.

I thought it would be fun to run in the snow,

but there is a lot of things I did not know.

I kept hoping for the sun to appear,

So the ice could melt and the paths would be clear.

The low temperatures made me run quick,

I was worried I would get sick!

The miles passed by and the end finally came,

I looked up and saw my street name.

When I got home all my teeth could do was chatter,

I was so cold I was worried I would shatter.

Up to the hot shower I ran in a flash,

To thaw out from my quick winter dash.

Now I'm curled up all warm on the couch,

And I may be acting like a grouch.

Grumpy Courtney is not a pretty sight,

So Happy Holidays to all and to all a Goodnight!

Home is Where the Snow is (An explanation of why I hate the snow)

I made it home safe and sound and with no delays Monday night! Yesterday was full of shopping. I finally got a good amount of Christmas shopping done and I have ideas for everyone else on my list- hallelujah! I didn't have time to workout Monday or Tuesday (unless you count walking around the mall as a workout) so I knew I wanted to get in a good workout this morning. I really really wanted to run outside this morning, but when I looked outside it was snowing and I'm kind of a Grinch when it comes to snow- I HATE IT!

I feel like I need to explain my hatred for snow...

When I was little my passion was dance

 

And it remained my passion for 11 years.

 

Unfortunately when I was 12 years old about 9 years into my dancing career I was sledding in my backyard (we live on the top of a very big hill) and I hit a tree. I knew instantly that something was wrong, I had never been in more pain in my entire life. I was with one of my best friends Bre so she ran up to my house and got my dad. He came running down the hill realized there was something wrong with me and ran back up to get the car and take me to the hospital. I later learned that on his way back up the hill my dad tried to jump over a snowbank, but didn't make it and tripped and broke two of his fingers. Even with two broken fingers he picked me up, carried me to the car, and drove me to the hospital. He refused to have his fingers looked at when we got to the hospital and they are now so crooked and messed up because of his stubbornness. On the way to the hospital in between sobs I kept telling my dad that I was positive my leg was broken. I had never broken a bone before, but I just knew it was, he tried to stay optimistic and kept telling me it was just badly bruised but I wasn't buying it. When we pulled up to the hospital and the nurses tried to move me they heard my bone pop and just from that one noise were able to confirm that it was indeed broken. The whole time this was going on my mom and Bre's mom were Christmas shopping together and both of them had their phones turned OFF. Remember the days when everyone's cell phones weren't attached to their hip? By the time they got our messages I had already been x-rayed and received the worst news I had ever gotten in my life so far: My right femur bone was broken straight through and I would not be able to dance for at least 6 months. Up until that time I had been crying from the pain, but when I was told I wouldn't be able to dance I lost it. Dance was my life I was at the studio after school from 3-10 EVERYDAY and I loved it.

Then began the longest 4 days of my life. They put me in a hospital room with no window because they were doing construction on the outside of the building, and I had an IV of morphine put in me against my will. I've always been against medicine and I would rather suffer through the pain, but they didn't give me a choice. I couldn't move for 4 days and I was the unhappiest I have ever been in my entire life. I had volunteers come in and try to make me do crafts or bake cookies with them but I wanted nothing to do with them. I know they were just trying to be nice and make me feel better but I just wanted to be alone. Finally on the fourth day they took me into surgery and I had two titanium rods put in my leg, and then I got to go home!

 

Being in the hospital was a pretty traumatic experience for me. I had no appetite the whole time, but had people constantly trying to force me to eat. (it didn't work) And I didn't see the light of day for 4 days. I actually cried when we pulled into my driveway because I was so happy to be home. Also, when they tried to get me up after surgery to teach me how to use crutches I promptly passed out. I had been laying down for 4 whole days and the nurses thought it would be a good idea to just sit me up super fast- talk about a head rush! Since I passed out I was not allowed to use crutches hence the walker and wheelchair in the above photos. 

I returned to dance the following summer after breaking my leg, but it was not the same. I had lost a lot of my flexibility and movement. Frustrated is an understatement for how I felt. I danced for 2 more years and then made the hard decision to quit. Dancing didn't bring me the same joy it used to and I wanted to have only good memories of my dancing years. I miss dancing everyday of my life, but it was a blessing in disguise because I would have never found my love for running if I hadn't quit dancing.

Since breaking my leg I've gone sledding a couple times, but only because my dad chopped down the tree that I hit. 

 

I even gave skiing a try once. I know I look happy in this picture but I was actually scared to death and cried most of the time I was skiing.  I'm not a crier but I was so terrified the entire time because I was surrounded by trees. I have no desire to ever go skiing again.

I love looking at the snow. I think it is gorgeous, but I hate going out in it. Just yesterday I was walking out to the car and slipped and fell on my knees. The moral of this story is that I am really clumsy and the snow just amplifies my clumsiness. Hence the reason for moving to the beach and never wanting to leave.

So that is the reason for my hatred of snow. Not just because it is cold and wet!

QOTD: Are you a snow lover or hater?