I had a dream last night in which I was walking down some stairs and my legs were killing me. I explained to my companions that I had run for two days then taken a day off.
“Let that be a lesson to me,” I said. Later on I woke up and went running.
I remembered the dream while running and thought, “You doofus, you didn’t go one day without running, you went three! Don’t do that again!” But I didn’t dwell too much on it, because, hey, I was out there moving.
I’m in Rome, at my parents’ house. They suggested I run the Canal Trail, but since it was still dark I thought I would stick to the sidewalks. The sun was mostly up by the time I got out the door, but I kept to my original intention. It is always fun for me to run in Rome, because these are the streets I used to ride my bike on many, many years ago (you can tell me how many with a chortle if you so choose; I have no time to do the math).
I was quite the bike rider in those days. It was just an old coaster with pedal brakes, but I loved it. It took me everywhere. It was not until much later in life I discovered the joy of gears, but we’re not talking about bicycles today. I was on foot.
The first thing I saw was the full moon from last night. A nephew of my husband’s used to call it the Moon-a-moolah. It sure looked like a moon-a-moolah this morning. I tried to run so I could keep it in sight. The sky was grey and getting lighter. I admired the bare trees against it. I have a fascination with dead trees but lately have been appreciating the charm of live ones. The limbs keep branching out till they are millions of thin twigs. Such detail! Really, Mother Nature is the consummate artiste.
Looking east I could see the incredible sunrise. Streaks of pink — was that red skies at morning? No, no, couldn’t be; we’re going to have a nice Thankgiving and take my sister’s dog for a walk. I turned down a street looking away from the pink but going right toward the moon-a-moolah. I clearly remembered some of the streets. My favorites were always the alleys. How cool would that be, to have your house on one street and your garage on the other? Then I saw one with a screened in back porch and my envy was complete.
I didn’t exactly get lost, because I always knew the area I was in and I didn’t run that far anyways. However, in Rome the streets often don’t come out where you expect them to. No matter. A couple of minutes added to a run do no harm. I was running a little faster than I had previously. I don’t imagine it looked like an effortless lope to anyone else, but at least I didn’t feel like I was plodding along. Was it a trot? No, no, I am never bouncy but strive for a smooth stride. Still, I had thought to call this post My Own Personal Turkey Trot, in acknowledgement of the day. Well, I still will. For one reason, I can’t think of anything better. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Mohawk Valley Girl 