The sign is quite clear. “NO TRESPASSING ON SOCCER FIELD.”
I’m on the track that goes around the field. It’s host to a fierce game of twentysomething guys. They’re sweating and bleeding and yelling. And I guess they’re trespassing.
It’s a Catholic school and these guys are True Believers, so maybe God averts his eyes for a couple of hours a week. And these guys are gods in their own way. They are lean and mean and buff in the way that reminds me soccer players are the best athletes in the world. No, I’m not gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Mostly I remember Trespassers W and how it’s great to grasp big words, but better to eat honey. So whatever.
It’s a nice night to run. I’m on an official Mo timetable, running shortly before the sun poops out for the day. It’s my first run back in my shoes after the Great Sunburn Debacle of 2012.
I’m listening to the nano. We go through a particularly morose series of Sparklehorse followed by Eels followed by American Music Club when the iPod just quits. Apparently it couldn’t take it and committed suicide.
Soccer runs are the perfect diversion. These guys are super serious and amazingly fit. A woman walking in the inside lane almost gets flattened by a guy determined not to let a ball go out. I’m thinking that would be a cool way to get knocked out of the SoM, but I’m in the outside lane.
A ball comes flying by and I retrieve it. As they watch, I pick it up and kick. I have a sudden “what the hell am I doing” thought as I fear it will go sailing in the wrong direction. But I unleash a fireball. It sails a good five or six feet, making it almost all the way across the track. I’m one of the guys.
Five easy miles later, the sun is gone. The boys are changing shoes and washing the blood off their knees. I take a swig of my diet Kool-Aid and pretend it’s He-Man Gatorade. We all go home.
100 days of soccer. How hard could that be? Easier than listening to the Eels/Sparklehorse combo platter. Luckily the shuffle appears to be muerto. Back to enjoying the voices in my head.
On to the Random Acts of Silliness!