My old bud Steve Perry put in $131, which seemed kind of odd to me until he explained that (a) this was $10 per mile and (b) if I don’t finish the race, he wants change. He also says he lives near the course and often mans a water stop on race day. If I see Steve coming toward me holding out a paper cup…
The two runs were a five-miler on the National Mall Saturday morning and a four-mile “hilly” run in today’s early morning hours. Saturday’s run was sociable and pleasant, starting at Third and Penn and traversing the south side of the Mall, the Washington Monument, the WWII Memorial, Reflecting Pool, and Lincoln Memorial before reaching a turnaround point on Ohio Drive. Given some stuff to look at and some folks to run with, the five miles seemed, if not effortless, at least nowhere near as hard as I’d expected.
This morning’s run around the neighborhood (seeking out hills to climb) was cold, dark and lonely and prompted diverse reflections on the Oscars, the Big Bang, the Meaning of Life and the not-unrelated question of just what the heck I think I’m doing.
Interesting book review in the Post Sunday on how artists and their works change in old age. Good to know, I guess, that Verdi was 80 when Falstaff premiered. I keep reminding myself, also, that Winston Churchill was older than I am now when he became prime minister in 1940.
On the other hand, to paraphrase my old hero Tom Lehrer, by the time Mozart was my age he had been dead 25 years.
I may also have another way of turning time on itself. I’ve now had three consecutive runs interrupted by untied laces. And being a “man of a certain age,” if I once bend over to tie my shoelaces, nine times out of 10 I’ll discover I need a rest room…soon. The coaches have promised a clinic on lace-tying, though I suspect they’re joking. But just to be safe, maybe I’ll buy a pair of those little clippie-things they sell for kids’ shoelaces.
What do you think, maybe Buzz Lightyear?
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