in The Fort

the Bad Run!

Around 7:30, feeling a bit restless…need to get out of the house.
Change into running shorts…going out for a run.
Sick of running around the neighborhood. Blah.
Jump in car--will head over to local park; no also boring,
4 times around is a 10 K. Boring.
Going to greenway, through the woods, by the river.
Get to parking lot, a few vehicles, some kids on their bikes.
In position, I start my run, good energy tonight; temps are cool.
Run by what looks to be a family…walking in groups together.
Last minute stragglers.
3 miles to New Haven. Trail empty. Nearly.
Beyond the river bridge, low by the ditch, I surprise a walker.
He jumps, I say ‘sorry’.
Over the railroad tracks, into the anchoring park, through the woods to the parking lot.
3 miles done, turn around.
That was approx 23 minutes, plus. Must be 8:30, at least.
Back through the woods, same path, just reversed.
Over the tracks, down down down, into the ditch.
It’s dark.
No telling what is out here in the dark.
Rabid dogs? Wild frat boys? Hooded movie delinquents?
Damn, it’s really dark!
Out of the ditch now, onto the bridge. Car lights, street lights.
I hesitate…no phone, damn it, just keep going--it’s the only way home.
Down again off the bridge on the trail, leading into the woods.
Another two and a half miles. Easy.
Into the woods, away from the road. No headlight beams, no street lights.
It’s dark.
Mind going wild, creating weird scenarios.
Think dummy; what were you thinking? It’s the stupid unthinking that kills.
The woods clear a little, next to farmland; river on the left.
Can see the reflective still water. Tree shadows on the water.
Coming up a sparse grove of trees, growing in flood plain.
Very little undergrowth, plenty of cover for a marauder, river on left.
Dogs, raccoons, murderous sorority girls, intent on doing murder.
Try to occupy mind by thinking of flowers. Good grief, that’ll never work!
Go with it, imagine the worst.
Another dense stretch of woods ahead. No sign of the road. No lights.
River, dark and deep, to the left.
Will be attacked, beaten, dragged and drowned in the river.
Adrenaline is on high alert. Control your breathing, slow your feet down.
Long strides, pumping arms, more woods, the river, the river!
Over a boardwalk, no ogres jump out. No screaming maidens I’ll feel obligated to rescue.
The ogres have big fingers, they can’t tie up their victims.
Ogres peel off the outer layers of their victims, starting with the clothing, which they eat.
To keep their food from running, they secure them with a downed tree, or a rock.
Or they eat off their legs.
Keep it together. I’m running faster than ever before.
A clearing, I can see the road. Across the road are the soccer fields.
The park’s lights are bright, must be games going.
Next to the trail is a wall, beyond that the vegetation is thick, can’t see anything, it’s dark.
Up ahead, one more long stretch of woods. The river is still there. It never left.
If you have anything left at the end of your run, then you didn’t give your all.
Will my all be good enough? Not trying to win a race, fighting for my life!
Out of the thickest of the woods, the river veers off, another boardwalk.
Parking lot ahead, breaking free of the woods.
My feet stop, airborne, I’m falling.
Left arms flies out, left knee hits grounds and I hit pavement.
What, but I am relieved at first, I can move, I try to sit up.
Left arm won’t support my weight. I wiggle off my side push up slowly.
Dazed, think I hit my head. My head throbs. My arm is numb.
Almost there, around the next corner is the parking lot.
The soccer fields bright lights hazily fill the upper voids.
Up onto my knees. Panting. I am panting. Shaking.
My breathing is easy, I am not panting, my heart is pounding.
Something else is panting. Sweat drips loudly to the asphalt.
Push up right armed to feet, move ahead. Walk. Faster. Trot.
Run!
My right arm is pumping, left side is numb. It tingles now.
I am running all out, both arms pumping, no pain, adrenaline.
The lot, my car, my red car.
I fumble at my zipper wrist band, pull out the key.
It fits neatly into the lock, I climb in, pull shut the door.
Lock the door.
Above the trees the full moon shines brightly.
Under the canopy it was unnoticeable, but made the river into a winding glowing snake.
Shift into drive and pull ahead, headlights piercing the woods, shining onto the trail.
A shadow, bent onto the greenway, wobbling, stretching its claws, disappearing into trees.
Take me home car. Never again.

Experimenting with Roman numerals , day VI .

No pictures today , so just a life experience and maybe a cartoon or two : NoteBook guy .

So…

I’m running through this neighborhood and three people end up swearing at me . There are no sidewalks , which actually turns out to be a good thing , for me , as a runner , right ? The streets are asphalt and that is a much better running surface ; better on the old knees . Sidewalks are usually concrete and concrete is bad on the knees . Honestly , if you care all that much about your knees then running is probably not a very good idea ; try checkers .
The first person to swear at me is some guy in a pick-up truck . He pulls past me then starts backing up right in front of me into his driveway ; I slow down , then he stops and then I speed up and run by . He honks at me and of course I call him a dumb **** . So he swears at me . So I say something like , “Go ahead and run me over you over-large Oprah-loving couch hugging poor excuse for a Frito dipping Bandito , and yeah , I really like your goat .” I’m not sure if I was referring to his stupid beard or the woman who was busting out the springs of the passengers seat next to him . He probably would have chased me down and squished me if she hadn’t grabbed the steering wheel and waved ice cream in front of his face .

The second person was on a skateboard and she was trying to fly a kite while pushing off backwards and she was on the wrong side of the street . Actually , so was I ; but walkers and runners are supposed to be on the wrong side of the street so they can keep an eye on oncoming traffic … so as not to be squished unaware . It is better to be squished aware . That way you can utter a quick prayer as you are being squished . Something like , “Our Father ,” splat . It’s the thought that counts right ? Of course , I’m pretty sure my last thoughts before being violently squished under some warthog SUV’s wheels will be more like “Oh s**t !”
Anyhow , this skater/flyer chick turns around just in time to see me attempting to avoid her and then she swerves right into my/her path --I’m being magnanimous here -- and she screams right into my face with full frontal spitting furry , “you stupid **** !” Well , that was rude . I kind of giggled , which actually was a full-out chortle , which gave me a Charlie horse so I had to bend over a bit as I ran on down the street . That’s when the squirrel with all his nuts came out from under a shrub and nearly tripped me up . What a psycho-day ! Punk/skater/girl caught a gust in her kite , and that whipped her back around ; I glanced over and saw her overtaking me ; she reached into her fanny pack and I jumped three feet : thought she was reaching for a heater ! No , she starts hurling smurfs at my head . Then she laughs and flips a tattooed mid-finger at me and zooms off down Wisteria in hysterics . Wow , what a dame !

Ouch ; I looked down and find baby smurf is biting my ankle ; I shake it off and come back around the block . It took eight point three five minutes and nineteen tenths . I had beaten the old block record by a tenth of a second . Not bad considering all the distractions . The pick-up truck couple were still sitting in the cab , but the doors were open . He , Mr. Lean-on-the-Horn-Honker-doodle-doo, had one pale leg out replete with crumbs and then he spots me : “Hey, blankety blankety blank ! You suck !”

“Yea , you too , Burger King ; can I help you to your front door ; I know where I can borrow a skid loader ?” Sure , we can get you there , but then only explosives will get you through the door into the three bedroom food court built on bed rock with double two by four support beam construction .

The guy’s keys rattle , but he’s not coming after me because he had ketchup on his chin and he pauses too long to lick it off . This is where the third swearing person comes in : An old lady across the street , sitting on her porch swing , swinging , with last weeks T.V. guide . “You *** , **** , **(*****-*****) . This is the umpteenth time you’ve circled this block ; you’re making me *****-eth tired .” She knew some old school curse words . Biblical stuff ; in bible-tongue ! I couldn’t even respond , other then to blush , so I pick up the pace and head across the street to Pigeon Street ; the tulip poplars are in bloom there and I had less chance of being mauled . “Ouch ,” I slapped my neck and saw on my hand what I had squished with my strike : Smurfette , squished and oozing blue sap , had crawled up my shirt and started pulling out my neck hair . “Yuck ,” I tossed her into the median strip and jogged away to the Aviary Lawns subdivision and whistled a happy tune .