That was it for almost seven hours. I don't sleep seven hours, ever. Not wanting to waste it, I was out the door by 7:00 a.m. I had planned ahead. The music of the day was none other than the Allman Brothers. It was as golfers say after a really sweet drive, "Dead, solid, perfect." The sun was still coming up. I was on the shaded trails. I was listening to "Statesboro Blues" and all systems were "GO!"
Speed had nothing to do with this morning's effort although I was doing okay. As I started moving down the trail, off in the distance I could see a blonde lady with a pink shirt and black compression pants walking fast and quite purposefully. Even from a quarter mile away I was almost positive it was Maureen Sacksteder. She's "Mo" to me the 24 years we have been neighbors. Nobody but the Boss can hold a candle to her when it comes to speed walking. If I could catch up to her in my mind without pulling anything, I could call this morning's offering at least a partial speed workout. At the almost two mile mark I caught her. Of course I was greeted with her trademark awesome smile and good cheer as she reached her turnaround point. After Mo's electric smile and greeting the next six miles were in the bag.
The trail was busy and I was in a good mood. Lots of people out riding bikes, walking, or running but all seemed to have scowls on their faces. It's a beautiful morning. Mo is smiling. I'm happy. What's up with you? So I would nicely say, "Good morning," to folks. Some perked up. Others went Robert De Niro on me as in, "You talking to me?" I didn't care. I was armed with the Allmans, the memory of Mo's smile, and a positive outlook on life, at least for the moment. And then some amazing things happened, This incredibly beautiful beautiful young lady with a graceful runner's stride emerges from the trailhead on the next trail I was getting ready to take a right to go down. She didn't seem to notice my approach. She stops and takes a big swig of water from her bottle and then proceeds to spit the the whole thing out. (Show of hands runners. How many times have you done that? My hand is the highest). She looks at me and smiles and before she can apologize or say anything at all, I give her a thumbs up and say, "You look like a runner!" She points at me and gives me a thumbs up and a smile and takes off. I glance back as she begins to disappear into the woods of the trailhead on the opposite side of the road and I think to myself, she looks some of the deer I see on my morning runs, ever so graceful as they move and then just disappear with graceful strides into the woods. The young lady was all athlete.
As I headed down my trail, I see one of those old friends that we all have and you don't know their names. You know what I mean. The exchange goes something like this:
"Hey Big Time. How are you?
"Good sport. Good to see you."
"Take care big guy!"
"You too Bucko."
What you can't possibly see is that what's in both of our minds is the exact same thought process and words. "Thank goodness I didn't have to remember his name. What is it anyway? How do I find out? Aw the heck with it. I'll just ask him when I see him again sometime in two years." Yep. We've all been there.
Then it hits me that I am in a spot where I took a picture six weeks or so ago on a rainy day so I took one again today along with a selfie from the same spot. The first one is for my buddy from Texas Pamela Washington. The next is me wearing a Meghan Goughan approved Browns visor.
About a half mile down over a bridge I turn to come back. As I head out of the woods a young man comes up beside me and runs with me for about a half mile. He's running in his first marathon in October. A very enjoyable half mile of running to be sure. Nice young man. I think he said his name was "Mark." Next time I see him I will call him that. Then again I can cover myself with Hey Big Guy, Sport, or Bucko..."
Everything about this run feels perfect. Even the sun is not part of the equation during the final mile. Five weeks ago eight miles WAS my long run. Then it hits me. "Goodnight Moon," The Allman Brothers." The song that's playing is "Blue Sky." It's at this point I realize the mood, the whole experience, the good attitude, this is all about the "Lindsonater," also known as my daughter Lindsay. The Allmans are our band. We've gone at least three times together to see them. "Good Night Moon" is our book. She's my favorite running and funniest running partner of all-time with her cousin Nina in a close second place. She and the Boss are coming home today. Thanks to Mo, the folks on the trail who scowled and then smiled, "Running Lady," and Mark or Sport, Bucko, or whatever his name really is, you made my run a small movie of a memory in such a simple way.
Bottom line, I got eight miles in. I feel great and refreshed and I'm going to see the two loves of my life in about five hours. Add to that tomorrow morning some Lyle Lovett, a trip on the trail from the Mustil Store to Sand Run Road and back, and then a chance to sit down and write about the whole experience and for me, I would call that a great weekend.
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