Post! (Mostly Running Stories)

Our story today begins with me saying that I have no real sense of the existence of the phenomenon known as the "Runner's High." The act of running never really feels effortless or easy to me, even when I'm enjoying it, as I have during the last few weeks of nearly perfect weather. I believe that I more often experience what I call "Runner's Dementia." This disorder has led to lost eyeglasses, lost keys, forgotten car locations, etc. During the worst of the heat of the summer, I was running with my mp3 player, returning to the house at the end of long-ish Saturday run. Saturday was our day to water the lawn, under drought restrictions imposed by the city. So before going inside for my post-run water and chocolate milk (yum), I took off the mp3 player to set the water sprinkler on the front yard. A few hours later, I realized that the mp3 player had never found its way inside the house. And when I looked for it, and I mean everywhere it could possibly be, it was nowhere to be found. "Runner's Dementia" strikes again.




I have bought another cheapo mp3 player, but haven't yet programmed it for operation. Still feels like scary new technology to me.









Some people get tired of running on the trail around Lady Bird Lake, otherwise known as Town Lake, or the Colorado River, not really a lake at all. I find myself drawn to it, especially for after work, evening runs, when I need a little natural beauty to get me going. It is often worth it to fight traffic through downtown, just so I can do 8 or 10 miles on the trail. Then I'll drive home, just after dark, to get my chocolate milk (yum), a shower, and a wonderful home-cooked, Carrie-cooked meal.









The trail is well loved by runners, cyclists, and walkers. I think there are fewer cyclists than there used to be, because with all the runners and walkers, the cyclists have to work to keep from smashing into the pedestrians, breaking their momentum. Sometimes the walkers get on my nerves, especially when they stroll three or four abreast, blocking the path that I want to take. Dog walkers can pose an even greater problem, especially those with dogs on retractable leashes, when they don't retract nearly enough.




Last week, I came upon a group of three women walking a very young dog, energetic, and on a not-retracted-enough retractable leash. This little dog was play/chasing a couple of bigger, more mature dogs close by. The hyper little guy ran right in front of me, and I had to stop on a dime in order to avoid tripping over the retractable leash. Then, he cut between my legs, wrapping the leash around my right leg twice, as he was flirting with, or pursuing the other dogs. The women were very apologetic as they helped untangle the dog from my leg. I somehow refrained from becoming verbally abusive, saying only, "Oh, this is great!" And, "Shorter leash next time." No blood, no foul, I guess.







Sometimes the human interaction on the trail takes an unexpected, and positive turn. On Thursday, I was four miles into an evening run, when I came across three guys in their 20's, throwing a football around. This was over by the youth baseball/softball fields by the mile 6 marker for the trail. The QB for the group was standing right next to the trail, and he heard me approaching from behind him. With the ball in his hand, he set into the "taking the snap" crouch, and timed a three-step drop perfectly with my approach. I was ready to take the hand-off, or sell the fake, whichever play he was running. It was a fake, and I smiled at the way he had set the thing up. Then I hear him say, "Run the fade." Are you kidding? I look back over my shoulder and he's looking right at me, his arm cocked to fire a pass my direction. I follow the trail, which was a perfect fade route, and make a "don't blow this" catch of his slightly under thrown ball. All three guys cheer as I flip the ball to the QB's friends, and I run on, with my arms stretched over my head, in the "touchdown" signal. Just like we drew that play up. And, hey, if I'd had my mp3 player, I doubt any of this would have happened.

On Saturday, I was running back home from the trail, through the UT campus. When I passed the entrance to the Blanton Museum, there were two slightly crumpled one dollar bills a few feet from the entrance doors. The museum was not yet open, so there was nobody in the immediate vicinity. It was so odd, and I spent the rest of the run thinking up scenarios for how the money had ended up there, and wondering if anyone had seen the money before I got there. Some scenarios were mundane and boring, others quite the opposite.

When you leave your "So glad to read a new blog post" comment, tell me if you think I picked up the money, or left it on the sidewalk.

Looks like the Yankees are going to win another World Series. If you see this as a bad thing, thank you for being a decent human being. If you are celebrating, know that this is the only situation wherein I wish my friends misery. If you are indifferent, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?

Peace,

JS4