IHOP day 9 — 5 miles

Heading out this morning into the sun
Riding on the diamond waves, little darlin’ one
Warm wind caress her
Her lover it seems
Oh, Annie
Dreamboat Annie
my little ship of dreams

— the prophets Ann and Nancy Wilson

Today’s soundtrack was a reminder of  the Dreamboat Annie Tour. Just me and the sisters back before I knew Seattle was Seattle, back when music mattered. Lordy god, what a band. A cassette bought at a drug store in Fort Stockton in a desperate to keep awake on that endless stretch of highway. Nearing 100 mph in an orange Honda on an abandoned West Texas road, the Chisos Mountains beckoning in the distance. The motel at Marathon. Javelinas and buzzards and rabbits and cactus and mesquite and the scent of wilderness in the breeze and Sing Child rattling the windows at 100 decibels. Thinking OK, this would be a good way to go out.

Nailed 120 today, which came out to a 15:07 pace. 120 is probably a nudge too high to satisfy the Prophet Maffetone, but it’s such a lovely even number that I’m sticking with it. Comfy, and works out to a steady 150 spm. This is going to work.

Soccer kids, pleasant weather, sunset over Camelback. Drifting back to the Mary Reilly days. A diehard Boston girl who was certain she’d never live to see the Red Sox finally win a World Series. Always wore a Red Sox baseball cap. How could you not love that? She was my tour guide and a fellow spectator at the Boston Marathon. Made me eat chowder. I hate chowder. I ate it anyhow and pretended.

In a world where I don’t make friends, she was my friend. A Boston native who loved John Prine. Funny as hell. 200,000 deadlines, several of which we made. That time we were desperately low on gas between Sierra Blanca and Van Horn on a freezing winter night. Thinking this would be a good way to go out.  Disappeared to Austin. Living happily ever after. And likely bored with winning the World Series so many times by now.

I can do this. That’s today’s recurring theme. I can do this. I don’t know what this is, but I can do it. My little ship of dreams.

That’s the best thing about strolling for an hour. Sunsets and memories that pop up when you least expect them. Looking back, smiling, looking ahead, scheming. Onward, upward. Thinking OK, this would be a good way to go out.

About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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