Round and round and round

The original plan was to run 24 miles, but what’s another 2, to squeeze in an impromptu marathon at years’ end?

12 laps around the reservoir. 26.22 miles. You wouldn’t think it would be an interesting run, but it was. I was out there longer than anyone, I think, and I got to see the people come and go. A few ladies in their new Reebok toning shoes, Christmas presents for themselves, I have to hope, because I think it’s probably not a wise choice for hubby to imply there’s anything wrong with his wife’s back end. Not if you want the holidays to be festive.

Lots of kids in fancy new strollers, one in a remote control car that he kept crashing into the fence, and the strangest bike contraption I’ve ever seen; it looked like a pre Wright Brothers attempt at a flying machine.

The average runner seemed out for 2 laps. The better runners seemed out for 3. The walkers were good for 3 as well, and there were a lot of families. A few triple generation crews, which is always nice.

The coyotes were putting on quite a show. Perhaps a bit too much of a show, as brother coyote spent a good chunk of the afternoon mounting his sister. This went on for a few laps; each time I’d come back round to the top they’d be off somewhere else romancing while Mama Coyote slept nearby. Eventually they stopped f*cking, came up near the fence, and dutifully posed for pictures.

Round and round and round.

There was a yuppie couple out for a stroll. He was walking a half step ahead of her, both wore grim expressions, and nobody talked. It may be that they don’t know how to communicate with each other without using Blackberries. Or perhaps he bought her a pair of Reebok toning shoes for Christmas. They looked loveless.

Round and round and round.

Around 4 laps in I thought about a friend’s daughter. She’ll be 7 this week. I’ve known this little girl almost all her life. She’s a really sweet little girl. A few weeks ago her ass hurt. It turned out to be cancer. They think they’ve got it all out. I spent Christmas with my sister, who has just had a few more discs fused in her spine, and has a gaping wound in her neck from her surgery this past week. The little girl’s mother is a doctor, and she called my sister’s surgeon because the gash looked infected. He said draw a box around the red area and then send him a picture. The idea is to see if the red spreads beyond the box. It looks like she has a clown’s mouth on her neck. And yesterday, at Christams dinner, is when I learned about the little girl’s cancer.

Round and round and round.

A middle aged lady out for a stroll was on her cell phone when she peed her pants. A huge wet stain spread suddenly from her crotch and down the inside of her thighs. She seemed completely oblivious. As I passed I caught a bit of her conversation. It was about someone planning to run for office.

There were a lot of dogs. They were all happy.

Round and round and round.

There were a few hipsters. Guys, I don’t know what to say about those mustaches. At first, I thought it was a passing trend, some sort of ironic thing, but it isn’t going away. Ya’ll need to stop. I’m not sure if the idea is to look like some sort of gay man from the early 1980s, in an ironic way, of course, but it’s not working. When your friends say “Dude, you look so gay” they do not mean you are a ravishing hunk of masculinity they would like to f*ck up the @ss in an ironic but deeply penetrating manner. They mean it as an insult. You look like a young Bill Gates auditioning for the Village People. You’ll notice that that in the Village People there was a cop, a soldier, an Indian, a construction worker, a leatherman and a cowboy…but there wasn’t a nerd or a twerp. I know you have the most fascinating post-rock playing on your ipod nanos, but you look like fools and the rest of the world despises you and your stupid and not-at-all-ironic mustaches. I wish I had something nicer to say but I don’t. Cut it out.

Round and round and round.

I meditated on sound. I’d listen to the cars passing by, and snippets of conversation, and my breath, my feet hitting the ground, the feet of other runners, laughter, dogs barking, little strands of sound; 3 laps could go by in which I do nothing but listen. And run.

Round and round and round.

I felt good at the end. I could’ve knocked out a few more laps without much trouble, but just because I could doesn’t mean I should. I was more than delighted with the ease of it all. And now: a shower, pizza, TV, and sleep.