I was living inside an internet meme.
“Stay off my lawn!” the old man bellowed, literally shaking his fist at runners who dared to even ponder cutting the corner through his lawn by the sidewalk.
In our defense, the road was torn up and under construction and the old man had chosen to re-deploy the yellow construction taped orange stanchions such that it felt like the flow of traffic SHOULD be through his lawn.
I admit, I was tempted because I couldn’t figure out how else to get through the barriers and through the not-quite-American-Ninja-Warrior obstacles of dormant steamrollers and backhoes.
But after being yelled at, I did veer back through the stripped roadway and found a means to cut back onto a sidewalk eventually. The runner behind him tried to quell the old man’s anger… albeit in a snarky, not-entirely helpful manner.
“Simmer down, old timer. It’s okay.”
This only incensed the old man to curse louder, “Jesus Christ! How many runners are going to do this today!”
And Mr. Defuser… or perhaps Mr. Gasoline on a Fire… decides he’s going to curse back. “You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”
“You’re a pissant! Come back here and say that to me!”
“Come out and make me!”
“I will!”
And the old man scurried off to find his keys to his… I wish I could say it was a Gran Torino but it was a Corolla. I just kept running, trying to avoid eye contact and conflict. Does that make me a coward? Complicit in the tolerance of rude, crude dialogue that plagues our society? I certainly wasn’t a good Samaritan though I guess by the inverse of that adjective I was just a regular old Samaritan and wasn’t helpful at all.
I didn’t want to get involved. I didn’t see anything I could do or say that would’ve de-escalated the situation, or that would have provided a means to change the tenor of the discourse. So I just kept running.
Besides, what chance did I have to stop an internet meme?
***
When I first signed up for this race, it was because the race director emailed me a mass mailing “We Missed You! Come Run With Us Again!” email. I thought I was signing up for the race that ended with a delightful recovery huckleberry shake. Turns out, I’ve never run this race before. Maybe I ran with these folks some place else. Still, when they only charged me $26.20, what the hell, right?
It was a small race. Lots of alone time on the course which can be a good thing and a bad thing. You can get lost in your own thoughts, as I did today. I don’t think I want to go into details here — there’s been far too many posts that have been composed at the bottom of the Well of Melancholy (which, for those looking on the map, is two blocks over and one block up from the Pit of Despair). As a result, not much prose today, as I toss a few photos into the internet ether.
One quick story though before I let the pictures speak for themselves — as we awaited the start of the race, a familiar voice called out to me, “Run Kevin Run!” It was my old Ioffe comrade, Christopher Bielinksi. I was hoping to see his partner Jenny Geiser at the finish as she was waiting to cheer Chris in, but sadly I couldn’t stick around. Nonetheless, it was a pleasant surprise to be sure, and a race highlight.
Photos from the course, including some poor attempts to capture the luminous blood moon:
