Of late, my writing on here has been aimless and bland. It’s been a whole lot of whining, a whole lot of rambling, and not a whole lot of fun. I still don’t know what the focus is of this blog — is it just for me? Is it supposed to be for other people? Is it a daily journal, a diary? Or is it something more akin to a daily column on the life and travels and foibles of a guy who runs? I honestly don’t have an answer for that.
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When I was a kid, somewhere in elementary school, we had something called SSR. It stood for “sustained silent reading” wherein for twenty minutes each day the entire student body would read. It was a better concept than an execution as many of us read “Calvin and Hobbes” collections and as this was the height of “Where’s Waldo?” mania, a lot of the “book reading” was hunting for that red and white stripped, prone-to-being-lost world traveler.
One year, our teacher wanted to implement a complimentary program called SSW: sustained silent writing. We would spend twenty minutes each day writing. Could be fiction or non-fiction, narrative or reflective. But the point was to write something every day. I distinctly recall floundering at times with the task and writing far too many entries about not knowing what to write and opting to go get a drink from the drinking fountain. I’d then spend a few paragraphs discussing the process of the drinking fountain and then rating the drinking experience. In some ways, looking back, maybe it was the genesis of my enjoyment of discussing water fountains with my brother. He started it later in life, ranking drinking fountains on temperature, taste, and overall experience. To this day we occasionally text a photo of some drinking fountain min an airport or at a museum or venue with an overall number, like we were judges on “Drinking with the Stars,” the eighth weirdest possible reality show.
But I digress. The point I was trying to make, and perhaps have made all too well, is that I have a tendency to lose focus and sometimes spin my wheels in prose… And I life. I’ve been remiss in running lately and I’ve certainly been remiss in entertaining entries on this site. Albeit the Captain Chaos dream is appropriately kooky and fun I think.
This next week is therefore about reclaiming focus and hopefully reinvigorating the running routine and enjoyment. I want to say the lethargy and inner ear thing that wiped me out physically and emotionally last week contributed to the vibe of the pieces and the lack of motivation; it was a nasty little bug to be sure but I think it’s mostly gone now.
I’m headed to New Jersey for my packet pickup. And there ARE a number of races this week so the blog posts kinda write themselves… Still, the goal is a bit more focus and hopefully a bit more fun in the writing, both for me and for whoever stumbles across this.
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It’s now 4:04 PM and I’m sitting in my murder hotel. As far as murder hotels go, this one is an attempted vehicular manslaughter at best. That is to say, it’s a step up from the usual grim realities of going cheap.
It’s a good thing I went cheap however as I expect a New Jersey fifty cent toll will wind up costing me $50.50 or more. I had everything worked out — stocked up on 1 dollar bills, had my billfold out for paying tolls by cash. And then — WHAM! The manned booth of the Garden State Parkway had a giant red sign and no one there leaving only the plate pass and exact change lanes open. I had just cleaned out my carry-on bag as I swapped from the rest-in-peace End of the World Marathon bag that had given its all over multiple continents to a not quite as useful single compartment Day After The End Of The World Marathon bag. As I pulled into the exact change lane, I struggled to find a zip lock bag I thought but didn’t now for sure still had change in it from the distillation of items from prior to current carriers. Alas, cars started lining up behind me and there was honking and pressure and I finally gave up, thinking I would cause more problems by staying in the lane than going through it.
I pulled into the next service station and a quick google search reveals it’s probably a $50 fine and on top of that it’ll go to the rental car company who will charge THEIR fine on top of the state of New Jersey’s fees. All because I couldn’t come up with two quarters… or five dimes… or even 50 pennies would have done it apparently. All because I had plenty of George Washingtons, Abe Lincolns, Alexander Hamiltons, AND even a few Andrew Jacksons. But none of those could buy my way out of the exact change lane.
I sent an email to the NJ Turnpike pleading my case from the rest stop. I figure I’ve done all I can to try and mitigate this but I suspect that in trying to be honest it will only cause more problems. Maybe they would have let it slide as these things do happen. But now that I’ve drawn it to their attention, I suspect I’ll be hit with all kinds of fines and penalties. We will see if being honest pays off or if it only makes things worse. Given the current state of affairs in the world, I am not optimistic.
This was the email I sent, tapped out on my phone, typo filled and frantic:
To: [email protected]
Hi. I’m currently in a rental car and couldn’t get to my bag with change in it. I tried at the turnpike stop near Monmouth just now but was holding up people behind me so I wound up just going through. The cash only lane was blocked red and unmanned and the exact change lanes were my only option. I wasn’t trying to skip the toll. I had dollars but no cents if that makes any sense.Anyway, I’d like to pay for it rather than going through my rental car company running into problems. What do I need to do to rectify this situation, hopefully without a massive penalty? I’ve stopped at the Monmouth service area to email you and see if there’s anything I can do. This would therefore have happened on April 30th around 12:35 pm.
Thank you and again sorry about this.
Kevin Hanna
I’ve picked up my packet at the New Jersey Marathon Expo. It’s a lovely day today but the forecast for tomorrow morning is pretty much rain, followed by rain, followed by more rain. They’re calling for 100% chance of rain in fact… which always seems like a foolish thing for a meteorologist to do. After all, I’ve been places where the 100% chance of rain didn’t pan out and we had blue skies and 70 degrees. Wouldn’t it make more sense for the meteorologist to say there’s a 99% chance of rain? That way he or she would have an “out” in case something did happen in the time span from forecast to reality. Isn’t THAT really the point of limits and calculus? Sure, sure. Area under the curve (whatever the hell that means) but also isn’t it all about limits — about approaching but never quite reaching zero or one or whatever number the limit is?
Here’s hoping the 100% forecast is as big a lie as… well… hell… I can’t even think of a lie that big, the whopper amongst fish tales that would adequately convey what I’m going for here. I told you the writing’s been off and unfocused.
To that end, though, I’m trying to re-gain the perspective on the reason for the running and the travel — it’s life. It’s trying to find happiness and sort through the roadblocks, hardships, and stumbles. To persevere in the face of it all. I’ve lost focus and perspective — it’s supposed to be fun. And so that’s what I’m going to try and build upon this week.
So, here’s my jockeying for position at the Monmouth Park race track.
And here’s a shot of me at the finish before I even started… both virtually and in reality. It really is a lovely day. This should make for a nice companion piece of before and after tomorrow. So be on the lookout — this is a BOLO, folks! Foreshadowing! That’s what writers do!
And for funsies, here’s a few weird things I encountered on the road today — that’s usually a good thing. Weird is usually good. Weird is also sometimes just weird. Take this first one:
I’m not sure if this was Scientology based but when they asked if I was interested as I snapped the picture, I shook my head in the negative and slowly backed away, never turning my back on them, just like they used to tell you in zoo school. Not that I ever went to zoo school… actually, I think I learned that from that crappy Jurassic World movie when Christ Pratt is lecturing somebody on how they should never turn their back on the velociraptors… as he himself has his back to the velociraptors. Do as Pratt says, not as Pratt does.
Finally, as I’m staying near Asbury Park, no visit to NJ would be complete without a short pilgrimage to SOME Bruce Springsteen shrine/place of interest. This is in Belmar, NJ, and is a giant reproduction of the Boss’s Fender guitar. It’s on the corner of “E” Street and 10th Avenue Freeze Out. Make of that what you will.
Now if you’ll excuse me, much like in elementary school when I would announce on paper that I was going to grab a drink from the water fountain, I’m headed off to an early dinner. I hear this local sub place is quite good. It’s owned by a guy named Mike. Authentic Jersey subs… can’t beat that, am I right?
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Post Script Side Note: I ALMOST ate here at THIS Jersey Summer institution (it only re-opened for the season on the 27th of April!). But the clown, man, the clown… it freaked me out.
