i’m running the 8 miler on tuesday. it’s out and back to the magic fountain. a routine run, the usual mix of strollers and runners and homeless guys. the occasional hey and wave. the miles go by. and then.
as i’m passing the bank center auditorium parking lot, there’s an old guy working the entrance. he starts clapping as i go by and yells “MAKE AIR! MAKE AIR! MAKE AIR! MAKE AIR!” he continues the chant till i’m far away.
what does that mean? is it a football thing? he looks like an old football guy. it makes me think of the anna nalick song. life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table, she offers. so just breathe. it’s funny, because i’ve spent a lot of time during this run monitoring my breathing. tempo days are good for that. four steps per breath for easy running, three for an effort, two steps per breath when things get serious. i’m singing the breathe song in my head. but make air? how does one make air? and why is he so excited about it?
i make the turn and come back by. i move over to the other side of the sidewalk to give him spome space. he’s directing a car in when he looks up and sees me sneaking past. “MAKE AIR MAKE AIR MAKE AIR MAKE AIR!!!!” he screams. i smile and wave and head into the hardest part of the run.
i spend the rest of the run making air. i don’t know how to do it, but it seems like a fine idea. it ends up being a great run, so i guess it works. no one can find the rewind button, anna says. so fast forward. and breathe. just breathe.
and maybe make some air along the way …
sidenote: when i came in to work today, my mrs. freshley’s creme filled chocolate cupcakes (doesn’t that just sound like a heaping helping of chemical goodness?) were waiting for me on my keyboard. just like the story about the lost dog who found his way hundreds of miles home to reunite with its owner. except i don’t think the owner proceeded to eat the dog. i love happy endings. especially creme-filled ones. heartfelt thanks to Saint Brenda, saint of wayward cupcakes.