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The Loping Journalist

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

It was going to be a special Sunday morning. I could tell by the temperature: 54 degrees! And this after some draggy hot, humid, muggy weather that seemed like summer had arrived in September. On Saturday, I ran the Kyle Bankes Memorial 5K in Beverly, pushing it pretty hard, came home and was good for absolutely nothing until I collapsed at Bill's feet and he made me glug a quart of Pedialyte. Blaaa to running when it's already 80, with 90% humidity, at 9 AM. But yay to the 5K. Love that event. I'll be back, bad toe and all, next year.

The sun pushed over the east hill, and I asked Chet Baker if there might be a deer back of us. He checked and said no.

Sunbeams or spirit lights? You be the judge. There were definitely sunbeams playing through the trees. But the ray coming off Chet's head has me truly baffled. Lucy? Anyone? 

I was so happy to be back out with my shadowdog, redeeming myself. I run a lot better in 54 degrees than 83.

It was one of those days that makes me happy to be alive.

The pond was reflecting the sky perfectly. It looked like a hole in the cosmos.

The path stretched ahead of me, inviting me onward, as it always does. When it comes right down to it I'm terribly spoiled for running. I go do these 5K's through suburban neighborhoods and wonder why I'm not in my beloved hills and hollers instead. It's the camaraderie, the society of other runners, the good cause, I guess. The vast majority of them are younger than me, and leave me far behind. Even people who obviously don't run much beat me. They walk long stretches, sprint a little ways just to get past me, huff and puff and sweat buckets and turn bright red and still leave me in the dust. I just keep up my steady trot and try not to feel bad when I see my time. 5K's are very humbling. Give me the silence, the crunch of gravel and a limitless cerulean sky any day. At the end of a beautiful day, I figure if I'm covering at least 4.2 miles every morning, I'm doing something good, something right. 

My friend Allen, who is a Real Runner, was kidding me about whether I was going to be stopping to take pictures as he and Beth whisked past me. Allen and Beth are lovely, long and lean, and have produced a little pack of Real Runners. Good genes. And I said, "I'm not a runner. I don't pretend to be a runner. I am a Loping Journalist."

Even though the news I bring is not of much consequence to the world. Like how the Three Graces might look on a September morning, backlit.

Or how much Pinky's calf has grown this summer.

Or how much indigo buntings love foxtail seeds.

This is my morning news. It's the only song I want to hear.


What a lovely praise piece to my favorite early season.

And it is your song -- yours and Chet's! --- and ours to listen and enjoy ! Darlene Shamblin

Posted by Anonymous September 9, 2014 at 6:15 AM

Beautiful. And glad to see the spirit light again, the three sisters, Chet and the calf w/mama. This land is your land, this land is my land,... ! It all feels so familiar to me. Thanks.

Two's company, 5k's a crowd.

You're a runner, too! Never, ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Mainly cause if your not a runner then what the heck am I? I have to run slower than anyone but I run, ergo I am a runner.

You just need to find a trail "race". I happen to know of one in beautiful WV next month. Even better I know a really slow guy running it.

It's true, the roads you travel have become so familiar to me -- can't thank you enough for sharing. You have such a gift with words and such a deep soul (with a wicked sense of humor). I'm glad you lope along, taking it all in -- pausing every now and then to catch a moment with your camera.

That light coming off your dog is lens flare, the direct sunlight glancing off a curve on your lens. When it's beautiful, like it is here, it can add a lot to a picture.

Great story. I run for time, even though I'm only competing against myself, but when I get to run in a beautiful place, I love to look around and enjoy the scenery.

Every time I read your running blogs I wish I was running along with you. I also have a beautiful running route, on the island right beside mine: sandstone, fir forests, beaches and marshes.(River otters, Great Blue Herons, Purple Martins, Bald Eagles...) Come visit some time!

I would much rather read the news of the loping journalist than the news of the day. Puts me in a much better frame of mind.

Oh, you misconstrue! I LIVE for updates on the Three Muses!

Best kind of journalism.

Posted by KH Macomber September 12, 2014 at 5:14 AM
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