Before the sanitation collectors toss the lids off my garbage pails in the early morning and ahead of the New York Times delivery person’s schedule for hurling all the news that’s fit to print midway beneath the rear axle of my car I am usually fast afoot and running a route towards the high school track a mile and a half away. A few loops around and several on the weekends helps me to clear my head and provide prep for the day to come.It’s therapeutic for me and is akin to being in a special place. But lately I have encountered a high frequency of negative interference during these runs.
For as dangerous as using handheld phones or texting while driving may be, the crack of dawn hours are full of the worst drivers known to man. Perhaps they assume that no one else is on the road as they blow through STOP signs as I approach the intersections. Evidently their spouses, friends and children run chronically late for the morning trains, in that I have nearly been run over on two occasions recently while driver and passenger alike focus only on the station 500 yards forward as they vie for the shortcut to the platform and seemingly pretend to miss me by feet instead of inches.
My grandmother used to have an apt expression. Racing to their graves, she would say, racing to their graves. And wise as that was, the flip side that focuses on me, is what instinctively and gladly took over causing me to comply with a simple hands held wide apart gesture and mouthing, “Are you kidding me”, instead of punching the rear window of the latest car to screech around a FULL STOP sign and ignore my existence.Confirmed to me instantaneously is why I am out there in the first place. I’m out there for pleasure, for peace and a little bit of paradise each day.
Just like many of us I’m fighting the stress of a long day, traffic snarls, building back up my 401k, emotional scars, grief, finding the right babysitter, weaning off sugar and carbs, caretaking, and societal group depression as I marvel at the incompetence of government. (PS…why couldn’t the NSA just take a few extra minutes and set up HealthCare.gov?). We probably could have signed up for health insurance faster if we accessed it through Angela Merkel’s cell phone.So yes…I understand the world is a stressful environment.
But as miles and minutes gave way to seconds my frosty nose met the warm air of freshly brewing coffee as I habitually entered the luncheonette at the end of my run so I could chug down a water and pick up my customary lottery ticket.And so, as the scents flowed, I sneezed. And four regulars harmoniously rang out…”God Bless”.
Politeness and awareness aren’t totally withered away I thought.Maybe the Thanksgiving and holiday season will polish it up and dust it off a bit…well…perhaps.
In either case I will keep on attending to my daily morning paradise, regardless of the obstacles. And if my lottery ticket ever scores I will stick to the same route. But I will be temporarily relocated to Nirvana.© 2013 Christopher’s Views