Now I'm no Jackanory, but this is allegory

This morning's run was intense. It wasn't quite as hot as it felt, but shade was limited and the route was new. Still, it was lovely. I like running alone and along water. Along the river, over and under rusty bridges and train tracks. I counted ten uprooted, and rather large trees that had been swept downstream; stuck teetering over the waterfall, waiting for one more hard rain to wash them further down. The sound was amazing--though I've never dodged so much smelly, green goose poo in my life. Trying to pay attention to where I stepped and steady pace.

Take a left down Helena. Past the hoards of screaming kids playing in the water play park; the smell of potent chlorine. Picnic tables and colorful balloons endlessly tied at every covered territory; reserved for people not even there. Reminding me of bloc parties we used to have in McBurney, or Harmon Park.

There were unintentional detours; dodging baby strollers through the Riverside projects--only there for a minute. Stopping to read about an old rusty 1917-1919 cannon used in both World Wars. Empty, dusty baseball fields, soccer practices in yellow, tennis matches in sweat. Endless fields of blooming clover and wishies floating everywhere like bubbles.

Tiptoeing over wild strawberry patches for a drink; memories of mom yelling, as Colin and I fed them to Carly instead of putting them in the berry bucket meant for blackberries, raspberries and mulberries for dinner's fruit salad. "Dogs need strawberries too, Mom." Can't get a conversation I had with her out of my head. "What's happening to everybody?" She said. "I don't think it really matters, Mom." I don't have answers.

Graffiti under Ridge Ave., rocks lining rushing waters, and red steel bridges only wide enough for two. Fellow bikers everywhere--don't you know we're all in the same club? Nod your head. Unknown Englewood fountains 50 feet in the air; amazed by the secrets the river bears. People everywhere; stark contrast to my first run back in March. Wow... people really do get along.

Back home, and back to the the rest of the world's reality--not mine.

Stop it Lovedrug. We're done rewinding.


Kimbrolynn said…
Where what? Where was I running? Where do people actually get along? At the Five MetroParks--Englewood, to Deeds, to Kettering Field, to Island, to Triangle, to Deweese and back.

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