More Running Commentary

Sunday I did not run the Falling Leaves race in Utica, perhaps to my discredit, but I did run.

I began my run with indecision. I wanted to go right on German Street, because I usually go left. My normal Sunday run is up to Herkimer County Community College the front way. I was not up for that. But in turning left, I usually run into Nicky, one of my favorite dogs I stop to pet.

I looked to the left. No sign of Nicky. I turned to the right. There he was!

“Oh, this is fortunate,” I said.

“He wanted to go the long way around,” his owner explained.

I ran on, feeling I was headed in the right direction. I went up a hill, only I won’t say which hill, because I did not run past a Road Closed sign. Uh, what I mean is… I ran up a hill. That’s all.

As I ran down Steuben Street, I remembered that on another Sunday I had seen a group of orange t-shirts gathered in the parking lot of this big grey building that looks like it used to be a school but now has offices. The building is on German, but the parking lot is readily visible from Steuben and vice versa. The orange t-shirts belong, I believe, to a run team or club. I didn’t want to run by anyone hard core. I would feel self-conscious, although they probably would not notice me. If they did, they are more likely to think of something charitable, like, “Isn’t that nice, that old lady is trying to run.” And I wouldn’t know even if they did think something mean, because I can’t hear people think. And who cares what they think? Not me! After that lengthy inner dialogue (and yes, dialogue, not monologue; I was talking to myself and I answered), the parking lot was empty. I ran on.

I scared a lady on the path over what used to be a hydraulic canal. I always know how slow I’m running when I come up on a pedestrian, because I see how long it takes me to catch up with them. I said, “Good morning!” when I finally passed her.

“Oh, you scared me!” she said. “I don’t usually see people at this hour.”

“It is pretty early,” I agreed, as I ran on.

No further mishaps, no dogs to pet, no coins from the angels. Just a nice Sunday run in the Mohawk Valley.