I remember walking the campus of Ohio Northern University in Ada in September and everyone was playing Maggie May on their stereos. And yes, it was late September and everyone was back at school. Sound blasted out from fraternity windows, college apartments, dorms, cars, and the bar in town. The volume on every record player Spinal Tap fans was turned to...."11." I always liked the title song best but if you ask the Boss, the Maggie May cut is her favorite. This all came to mind as I drove to the trailhead at the Kent to Silver Lake trail by the Cuyahoga River for a 6 mile run as per the Hal Higdon schedule this morning around 5:45. Unlike yesterday, there was absolutely no chance of me making an ass out of myself but I did almost got run over by a deer. I'm not making that up. He or she, I didn't have a chance to check the gender, cut me off. We scared each other and then almost as quickly settled into acceptance that we should share the space. There were numerous rabbits and chipmunks as well as the sounds and sights of birds. The Cuyahoga River was busy and noisy today, It was Mother Nature's treat. I selected Mindi Abair, smooth jazz sax player, as my running partner. She is good. Real good. I had planned on running rather leisurely for the first three miles of my run with the intention to then pick it up on the turnaround. I knew the sights would be beautiful and almost breathtaking. On the way out I was taking pictures and was enjoying myself but couldn't help but notice that my running periods were faster than normal without extra effort. As I made the turn and headed the three miles back, each mile got faster. Not obscenely so but under 13 minutes a mile. Mindi had done her job. I was floating. It wasn't a runner's high. It was more business like as if I was for the first time in a long time in control of my running experience. I ran up the quarter mile long hill towards the end of my run from Fishcreek, This is a a very low point on the trail, I was picking up speed as I ascended to the top of the hill. As I crested the hill and started the gentle downward slope on the other side, I was Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic yelling. "I'm the King of the World." I was Rocky at the top of the art museum stairs. I was Maverick in Top Gun when he shot down the Russian Migs. I was.........a dope. In a perfect moment I switched the IPod to Rod Stewart to play the song Every Picture Tells a Story. It seemed so fitting. The sights and sounds today were fantastic. I was connecting to my past. To a time when I ran sub six minute miles. It was powerful by itself. Alas, I had gone too far with my flair for the dramatic. What I did next was shameful. Take away my Alan Freed card friends. I fell off the boat. I tripped on the last step. I overshot the runway. I played Do You Think I'm Sexy. I hit the wrong song! My fingers were sweaty. I couldn't make contact with the IPod screen to get the music to change. I had blown the moment. I was stuck now with the image of seeing myself in a disco suit hugging a blonde in a leopard skin print leotard. I had moved from one of the coolest albums of all-time to the music that turned my younger sister Paula from a Rod Stewart lover into thinking he was Bozo the Clown. Why do I make these training runs so complicated? Pretty simple actually. It get's me out on the roads and trails and for even if just for a little over and hour, I forget about any problems I have, children and grandchildren's names, what is happening in the stock market and everything else either good or bad. No. My biggest problem today was trying to forget the infamous album cover. So here's my second chance. I will let the pictures tell the story sequentially with a closing thought.
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