Uncle Hal said I could go as fast as I wanted as long as i could hold a conversation. But i was alone, so i just made stuff up. i went through mile 1 at 11:39, which was WAY too fast, but i was breathing in comfy zone and felt fine. then mile 2 in 11:46 and still not pushing at all. yikes. i think i could have kept that pace up through the entire run with no woe, but it was supposed to be fred day, and uncle hal had yelled that tomorrow is 11 so don’t screw it up today by going too fast. so i pulled the parachute cord for the other 3 with an occasional speed-up just for fun and every lap when i went by the two dogs who fancied me as a chew toy.
little feat’s last record album blaring in the earmuffs. she don’t need a gun she’s an ultimatum. stoned with the Frisbee Brothers. better running through lowell george. ominous black clouds drawing nearer from the west. finish line EXACTLY as it began to rain.
and then cheering a team i never knew existed, followed by an evening with the feet propped up reading edith pearlman. hanging out with a cricket driving a jeep while jimmy plays pink floyd, accompanied by a storm unintimidated by the joint’s ancient windows. legs feel fine. maybe i’m a runner after all. or maybe it’s just black butte and sedatives. i have become comfortably numb.
in the words of the prophet tweedy, i will try to understand. either way.
because you never know. never ever. we are, after all, running rebels …