Running Commentary: #7b

Running Commentary: #7b

July 20, 2012--Friday

     Slow-Mo today. Laura and family have abandoned Austin. They've headed to the Texas coast for an early 'adios' to summer.

     Free time is disappearing; back to school days are looming. So, I've been given a five day test on self-discipline and perseverance--hold the line on daily running--'Suck It Up.' Bill Saporito wrote a great article, Survival of The Fitness, in the latest Time. It was all about what it takes to win the Olympic gold. It's not the most athletically gifted; it's all about mental toughness, enduring pain, and who works the hardest. Made me think we shouldn't have had a banner stretched across America's skies, "Mission Accomplished." Better to have a new one flying, saying, "Work Harder!"

     On the morning before the leaving-for-the-coast farewell run, Laura told me that both her husband's and mother's car batteries had died--on the same day. She thought it odd and not a coincidence. Probably caused by the Solar Cycle 24. Her guess was, the neighborhood was sitting in a pocket of magnetic field weakness and the Earth needed the energy juice from car batteries to keep circling. Now, while she hadn't had time to do a house-by-house canvass for a dead battery count, Laura thought it was, on the spot, a pretty darn good working theory. We laughed, grabbed an ice cube and took off. Success! We located nonsense to start the run with a smile.

     Before we'd turned the corner of the first block, here came more news from Laura. "I told the girls yesterday, that after 30 minutes of T.V., they had to turn it off and find something else to do for the rest of the day. After the whines came a surprise, They created and filmed YouTube movies for the rest of the day."

     Whoa! T-Time. We've entered a magic zone. Like in the valley of Technologies of Expressions.

     "Uh...how did they make a movie? On what," I asked, Laura.

     "On their cell phones, silly."

     "Well, you know I told you it took me three days to figure out how to post my first picture on Facebook, and I was so proud of myself, I've still got the feeling, and not wanting it spoiled, I haven't tried to post another since."

     I guess my comment wasn't worth a follow-up because Laura just ignored me. Time to change talk-run tempo, anyway. We were coming in for our first water break.

     "You know the air is getting dirtier.I can measure the quality of what we're breathing by bath taking. There are black flecks on the bottom of the tub after the water drains. This wasn't the case a few years ago. I know it's all the gunk flying in the air. The sweat in the hair traps it.Good thing I've got straight, grow forward, Indian hair, the polluted air debris just slides right out with a good shampooing."

     Laura wasn't too interested in talking about hair pollution. Actually, the range of talk topics was light. Had to have been because when I later thumbed through my little spiral where I take notes at the water breaks on what we've talked about, the pages were blank. This was just a 'get it over with' and 'get on with it,' kind of morning.


July 22, 2012--Sunday


     Walking to the high school track this morning, I spied a dime, half-way buried in the dirt. Did I bend over to pick it up? Of course I did. To me, dimes are precious.

     Growing up, in our house in the hollow, there was no radio to touch the outside world. No music. No telephone. Just the Saturday afternoon movie in town, where mother would put me and my two sisters, so she could go buy groceries, with a stop-over at the ice plant to buy the family block of ice for the week. My hand can still feel the dime I was given to buy my ticket to get into the theatre and see the magic--Roy Rogers. Lash LaRue. The Lone Ranger. Red Ryder. Black and White images filling the screen with action. My fingers were squeezed so tightly around a thin piece of silver. Sometimes I kept it in my mouth to make certain I would never lose it.

     In every single movie, the White cowboys or White army always won. No one ever explained to me why the Indians were always made to play the enemy. In those day, though, if you were on the enemy side, you lost.

     On those going into town Saturday's, ever so often, regardless of all my protective rituals, my show money would disappear. And, when this happened, the only thing left to do was while away time by walking and exploring the few blocks of the town's main street until mother finished her Saturday errands. So, this morning, I stopped and picked up the dime and walked toward the track, on my way to run, listen to music, and explore a new morning.