let it, bees

It’s a one-time thing
It just happens
A lot
— the prophet Vega

It’s windy and sprinkling and dark and not a great night to run at the track. But I have a one-day streak at stake, dammit. And anyhow, it’s not the weather I’m worrying about. It’s the bees.

Longtime readers will recall that the Powers That Bee seem intent on shutting the joint down. Each day seems to bring a new excuse. Closed for football practice. Reserved for private group. Locked for no damn apparent reason. But today they’ve outdone themselves.

A blue table with a big pile of something on it sits a few feet off the track on the football field. It was surrounded by plastic barricades and yellow crime-scene tape till the storm blew them over. Attached to the tape now lying on the field are a pair of  signs: CAUTION. BEES. STAY CLEAR.

Two things strike me as I take a photo:

  • The just-released album of Neil Young performing the Tonight’s the Night album live in 1973 is fantastic. I’ve been listening to it on the way to the run and it’s the soundtrack for tonight’s trot. I can’t wait.

I tiptoe away, waiting for one of those cartoon episodes to begin where I run around in a frenzy, chased by a huge swarm until I end it in a swan dive into the steeplechase pool. This will not end well, because the steeplechase pool is closed, and my diving skills consist of the cannonball and, um, well, the cannonball. But the pile of things on the table does not seem interested in the least, so  I figure what the heck. Might as well run. He died doing what he loved and all that.

And anyhow, there are a couple of fast guys in Lane 1 and 2. I’m in 9, so if the bees get cranky, they’ll go for the nearest target, yeah? I flash back to a few years ago when Mo and I were running a trail race at night. The RD stopped us to say there was a pissed-off bee hive ahead of us. Mo instantly disappeared a half-mile ahead of me, content to leave me to die a slow, painful death. You have to respect that.

But I never see any bees. I ponder whether I should ditch the headphones to listen for bees, but I reason it wouldn’t do me much good since I’m averaging 13:45 and bees likely go faster than that. Besides, this Neil Young album is to die for.

In the end, nothing happens. I get in my 2 miles, the streak completes an incredible TWO DAYS, and I look forward to whatever excuse they make up tomorrow to keep us off the track.

It’s a one-time thing, it just happens a lot. Never doubt Suzanne Vega …

About gary

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