“I don’t envision a long life for myself.
Like, I think my life will run out before
my work does, y’know? I’ve designed it that way.”
— the prophet townes van zandt
Hi. You don’t remember me. I was the guy in lane 9 a year ago today when you were doing the intervals from hell. I stood there with my jaw hitting the ground as you flew around the track in the crazy August heat. I had no idea who you were, but I knew you were spectacularly fast. The next day as I read your obit, I realized just HOW fast.
I needed to go to the track today, to stand in that same spot, to look out and remember. The tree you were resting under is gone as well, a victim of the summer storms. Even the stump has been removed and covered up by gravel. The crow you were inhabiting seems to have left as well. Time marches on, I suppose. You click the stop button on the watch and wait for the next one.
You would have loved it tonight. The weather has gotten a tad cooler. The moon was almost full, enormous as it rose over the track. A young female was in Lane 1 running ferocious 200’s. That wasn’t you, was it? You seem to get around. It was a lovely night.
I still don’t have a car, so getting there was a chore. But the roads were empty and it was one of those nights to contemplate life. It’s all so random. Live, die, inhale, exhale. Mo worries we’re not doing enough to make the world a better place. I worry that I don’t much care anymore. But there’s much to be said for the simple joy of walking and breathing and experiencing the simplicity of an evening stroll. Thoreau and Abbey make for a pretty good compass.
Wow. That was a year ago. Time really DOES fly, the same as you did in that last back stretch. I guess you had a good life. I’m sorry it ended too soon. Maybe there’s something to be said for your life running out before your work does. Townes was wise.
Anyhow, thought I’d say hey and let you know the track misses you. Please tell Townes I said hey.