theory of relativity

i’m running on the magic fountain loop. i’m having the opposite of fun.

it’s one of those days. a howling wind is eating my lunch. pimiento cheese sandwich with mayo. diagonal cut, please. i’m running a mile with the wind, a mile against. i suppose it’s no different than intervals or hills or hitting your head with a hammer for a while, then stopping. but i prefer my runs calm, before the storm.

they say native alaskans have a hundred words for snow. i have a hundred words for wind, none of which are appropriate for a cat blog. i do not care for the wind. but it’s always windy here, so what to do? keep running. always keep running.

but then.

coming into the wind as the fourth mile winds  down, i see her. a little girl is holding a pinwheel. it spins furiously in the wind, a tapestry of kinetic art. she marvels at its flight, the ocean a vast backdrop to its simple wonder. three dollars of pure joy, powered by a 20 mph function of nature.

it’s all relative. a little suffering is a small price to pay if it allows a pinwheel to fly. i finish the last mile with a smile and a snow cone. but not a blue one. that’s just wrong.

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, el senor recalled today, quoting the country  classic by little jimmy dickens. never, ever doubt a country classic.

lesson learned. stop looking for the worst. the best is in there somewhere.  just keep running. always keep running.


About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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