I’ve started running again—or at least, I have started working toward running again. My calves and my tibialis anterior are swollen and angry. I’m almost definitely doing everything wrong.
Sunday night I asked Justin a most serious question: “the whole time you’re running, is your brain just telling you to stop? Like, how do you stop your brain from trying to convince you to stop running??”
“What?? None of that is happening. I’m just thinking 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3. The entire time.”
“That’s it?! Oh my gosh, at about :30 in, all I’m thinking is, ‘that’s enough. You can stop now. This wasn’t a smart idea to begin with. You gave it your all. How long has it been? :45?! There’s no way I can keep doing this.’ And on and on, until I eventually give in and stop.”
Another day, another run. I already wasn’t feeling it, but I know me: if I skip one day, that’ll be the end of this…again.
It started just like any other run: 2 minutes of walking, and then away I go. As usual, nothing was really going on. There was a woman walking her dog, and a little grandma walking to the end of the street…with mail??
Suddenly, I was being flagged down. “Excuse me! Can you help me??” This little Italian grandma, in a raccoon sweater was standing in the road, with papers and an iPhone. “Can you help me make a phone call? My daughter left me directions, but I do not know how to make this work. And my real phone isn’t working, so my daughter told me I have to call this number, but it won’t let me make a phone call.”
Psh. Between my two moms, I am a professional when it comes to assisting with what some might consider easy. Making an actual phone call might be the easiest task I have ever been asked to assist with.
“She said type this number in. And then look!? I can’t make a phone call! There’s no keypad! Where do I type in the numbers.”
Easy grandma, one step at a time. I point to the phone icon, and explain she has to click this. “Oh! Ok, now this is the number. I cannot really read it.” As I was about to type the number in, I realized she had obviously made it to this step at least 3 times. The long line of numbers across the phone was proof of that. I deleted, deleted, deleted, until I got down to one phone number.
“Ok. That’s the number—now you just press this button.” I point to it, and let her complete the final step (it’s like with kids—you want them to leave feeling like they accomplished big things). We hit a brick wall.
“See?! It will not let me call! It just says this!” I honestly don’t know what she did, but she lost her button pressing privileges. I backtracked and hit the button, and you would’ve thought Bob Barker just announced that she was the next contestant on The Price is Right!
I continued on my run, having only made it one minute into the damn thing when I got flagged down. For the rest of my run, my brain switched between, “oh my god this is terrible,” and “what the hell was that little old lady going to do if I didn’t run by?? Do you think she was going to flag down a car? Do you think she was going to cross the street and start ringing doorbells until someone answered and helped her with the most impossible task of using an iPhone to make a phone call?!”
On my way back, she was no longer standing at the road, so I’m guessing she managed to contact the phone company.
Word of advice to any children/grandchildren: if you need to assist someone with using a smart phone for the first time in their entire life, do not just write directions on a piece of paper and think they’ll be able to follow along. No matter how large you write the words, and no matter how simple the task is for you, this will most likely be the most difficult task they have to complete all day. Remember: this is the generation that left their VCRs blinking 12:00, because no one could figure out how to set them. They deserve patience and understanding.
I’m adding “patiently assists seniors with iPhone issues” to the skills section of my résumé.
