Sunday, April 25, 2010

Day 115 - Mini Photo Safari

For those just tuning in, I'm a single dad.

Sundays when my kids go back to their mom's, the house goes from loud, crazy, messy fun, to quiet. Too quiet. Drink yourself into a coma quiet.

To combat the crappy feeling that comes along with this instantaneous onslaught of quietude, I've been saving my Sunday runs for after 6p. Gives me a reason to live something to do.

This evening, I cruised a couple of my home-based loops, hooking them together, like a couple ditching post-prom.

I was thisclose to leaving my phone on the counter, but figured I'd better bring it along just in case...

Barely out of the neighborhood, I could hear a faint, tiny voice from the tree above my head...

"Echo base, do you copy?"

"Echo base, this is Echo leader... we have choppers down... repeat choppers down... dozens of them... they're just falling from the sky..."

Why must so many die? Why?

So that trees like this can live in freedom...


The iPhone camera doesn't do this justice. The leaves on this young tree are a brilliant day-glow green. I have nothing to compare the color to other than the awesome paint scheme of the day-glow Indy Cars from John Menard's Glidden sponsored team.


Excuse me for pandering to the Indy Car fan base... both of us. But seriously, that's a bitchin' color for a car.

Moving along...

I hate when the Call Before You Dig dudes paint on the side walk.


Isn't the grass good enough? Why do they have to deface the... hey... wait a minute... take a look at that. There, on the left!


Now that's just uncalled for! Does this guy think he's funny? That's so immature.

What? Oh, seriously? You think he might have just been paying his respects to the property's leasing company?


That's a reach. If you're going to go that far, maybe it's part of a guerrilla marketing campaign for the Delta Wing group's Indy Car concept car.

I am not making this up.

Sorry. Last Indy Car reference. Promise.


It's always good to stretch before coming on to a dejected teenage baseball player, especially if you're made of brass.*

Almost home, I was picking up the pace and dove into the trail. The rain made it feel alive as drops fell softly from leaf to leaf before hitting the... WHOA!


"Enough wispy nature boy haiku talk, I need to pay attention to what I'm doing...this stuff is more slippery than KY on a frog's belly."

I made it through. Lots of slips. Several close calls. No falls. What a relief.

And what a rush.

I went right back in for another lap, this time, at speed!

Mud was flying. Puddles were splashed. Roots were eyed seriously as I contemplated the damage they'd do if I were to slip and strike one with my temple.

I reached the far end in one piece... that was not a given.

Note the several inch slide as I came to a "stop" at the turn-around.

The return run was equally thrilling and slippery and fraught with danger. And a little more fun.

Finally emerging from my extra credit trail work, I found a large deep puddle to slosh my shoes around it, rinsing away the caked mud and other hangers on.

It was a great run, and a good way to transition the evening. Though the kids would have enjoyed that run. Or at least seeing the old man come back with mud splattered up his back.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 3.0 miles on asphalt, concrete, mud, primordial goo.

* For those joining late, that's a call back to this post (78) and this one (79). Not funny to anyone but me, but I'm the one with the password to the blog.