What, pray tell, are PBs, you ask? PB stands for personal best, so PBs means that there have been a number of them. Let's have a look:
Julian: he's got his one mile best run time down to 6:35 seconds and his push-up best now stands at 41 or 42. All of Julian's one mile runs are sub-seven minutes now. Impressive.
Wendy: I mentioned in a past blog that Wendy was doing a bit of jogging. Yesterday she jogged from our driveway to Nan's, non-stop. That's a half mile! The real surprise is how little running training she did to get to herself in shape to jog this distance. Perhaps all that singing has kept her lungs in great shape. Her daily walking regimen has no doubt kept her legs in a jog-worthy state.
Ian: I haven't had PBs per say, but I've been inching back towards PBs from the past. I did 58 push-ups one evening. My longstanding PB is 62. I went for a run the other night and did the mile in 7:39. My PB is 6:45. It's a long way to go to get that one back. I did have one PB two days ago involving Mootha. I pushed Mootha in her wheelchair from Pine Grove to Joan's house (Garden Creek Pottery). It was a 7km roundtrip. Most of the trip was completed on the bike path which was either spectacularly smoothly paved or graveled. It was easier to do than you might guess, but I did it in flip flops which probably wasn't one of my better ideas.
Mom seemed quite enlivened by the journey. We passed through shady groves of trees (it's cawd) and enjoyed scenic views of the St.John river (oooh, that's nice), and we had a good look at the backyards of many riverside residents. As I was pushing the wheelchair, I was sweating in the midday sun with just a light t-shirt on (and shorts!). Mom had a shirt, light sweater and also an auxiliary blanket to keep her warm. There was a bit of a headwind which made it seem cooler to her, though she had some cerebral insulation from her most regal headgear...the Queenly straw hat. Next stop...Ascot.
Mootha chattered for much of the walk, though it wasn't her teeth. She had an ongoing commentary. I'm not sure what she was saying, though I suppose it was something along the lines of 'push faster, you dolt' or 'help me, I'm freezing to death...someone stop this crazy man' or 'there's a Tim Horton's up ahead and I'd kill for a box of TimBits....do you suppose this crazy fool has any money'.
We'll never know what Mootha was saying, but she was happy. Mom was always quite competitive in any sports or games that we used to play, so perhaps she was aware that we were having a wheelchair PB. I can remember her playing ping pong with her tongue out to the side of her mouth as if to insinuate that she was locked in a grueling battle. A loss might be met with a quiet aside of 'dammit', and a coy smile. Never a Cheshire smile for a loss, that was only trotted out for a win. A big win, like a PB.
I'm not sure what the next PB will be, but I know for sure we won't have to wait long for its arrival.
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