Day 9: Ran 5 miles yahoo/ Total so far 22.5/ Miles to go 977.5
Yesterday was one of those perfect Dallas winter days. Sunny, 78. I had been thinking how nice it was to run in the sun in my sweats and low 50's weather in New York the past few days. But back in Dallas, I remembered that 50 is not warm and I was grateful for the incredible weather that awaited me on my return. I always explain to friends who are not from Texas that the reason we have such changing winter weather, warm and sunny one day and ice the next, is because of the battle between Mexico and Canada. The middle of the US, nestled between two mountain ranges, the Appalachian and the Rockies, is basically flat. The cold Arctic air races down from Canada and meets the warm tropical Mexican breezes. Where they meet determines what kind of a day we will have in North Texas. Mexico won yesterday and hopefully will win again today. Most of the time I route for Mexico!
I got up at 4 a.m. to catch the 6:00 o'clock to La Guardia to Dallas American Airlines flight. It was hard to answer the alarms call after having had a wonderful dinner at a little Thai restaurant near NYU the night before. We had gone to that neighborhood because we had made plans to meet up later with daughter Leigh after a copy editing class she was taking, and our friend Rose, who was giving a speech nearby at the NYU law school. A crisp Argentinian Sauvon Blanc washed washed down my stir fried cubes of steak, onions and tomatoes....a lot of wine. We met Rose and Leigh at an Irish Pub a few blocks away for Samual Adams seasonal (the beer of the night, and at happy hour prices though is was getting late), some stale chips and salsa (so hard to find good chips and salsa in New York) and some calamari (Leigh had not eaten much and there is always room for a little fried calamari).
After 4 hours sleep and the cab ride to the airport, I managed to doze most of the flight to Dallas. I would like to say that the plane sleep refreshed me (it didn't) but it was better than nothing. The day was not too bad, it being spring break so fewer people around. I wanted to go home and go to bed, but remembered the blog and the goal. So at 5:30 I was at the gym and walking to the Katy Trail. I love the Katy Trail....an old railroad right of way that has been restored to an urban oasis of walkers, runners, joggers, bikers, strollers and dogs. The non-profit that supports the trail continues to landscape it and build little parks, and entrances with vistas, a wonderful civic public private partnership. The trees and bushes had just began to bloom and white and pink buds had started to pop open everywhere.
On the way to the trail head, as I walked the four blocks from the gym through the nice Highland Park streets, I saw a father and son in a vacant lot playing catch. The toe headed boy replete with baseball hat and striped uniform, looked about 5 or 6. The dad, in plaid shorts, beer belly and Hawaiian shirt looked, well, ridiculous. The dad was obviously not an athlete. But the scene caused me to have a flashback to my own attempts to be the sports dad for my oldest son, Eric.
Eric is a natural athlete, born with a ball in his hand. I was and am a klutz when it come to team sports. Always skinny and awkward, the last chosen for teams, etc. I had expected my first son to be similar. I was al prepared to console him when he too was choosen last, with the "Harvard Cheer" appropriate for all geeks..."That's alright, That's OK, their gonna work for you some day!" I was startled that Eric was so gifted. In retrospect, considering the genes on his mother's side, and especially his Big Daddy, Kay's father who played college baseball, I should not have been surprised with his ability.
When I would take Eric to the park and try to throw the ball so he could hit it, only about one in 4 or 5 actually sailed over the plate anywhere near a strike zone. Eric was so patient with me....shouting "That's good daddy!" whenever I was able to pitch a ball he could hit. Wonderful memories of those times flooded my mind as I passed Mr. Hawaii and his son and watched them at play.
At the trail my goal was modest. I had been running 2.5 miles the past few days. I knew if I ran another 2.5 I would reach 20 miles, a slice of my pie equal to 1/50th of the 1000 miles goal. The Katy Trail is marked at 1/4th mile intervals. I was starting at mile 0, the beginning of the trail. I determined to run out 2.5 miles and turn around and see how far I could go. I play lots of psychological games to motivate me. One is the think of any extra miles beyond an origninal goal as "gravy." I am sure this comes from my southern roots where everything is better with gravy on it. I remember a comic one time dressed as a Luby's Cafeteria Lady asking in a deadpan tone "You want gravy on that gravy?" So I knew that any distance longer than 2.5 miles would be gravy for the run.
At just before the one mile marker, I came to the intersection of Knox Street and the trail. The cars are supposed to yield to the runners, but you have to be careful as many drivers subscribe to the Kathy Bates mentality from the movie, Fried Green Tomatoes, "I am bigger than you and I have more insurance," and pay little attention to the trail until they hit the speed bump right before the crosswalk and their tires squeal. Right at this intersection, there are some restaurants and retail stores in old buildings dating back to the days of true neighborhood retail. One of my favorite is Ta Louse, a french haunt with outdoor seating, like a Paris sidewalk cafe, minus Paris.
As I passed Ta Louse, more memories came flooding in of one of my favorite days of all time. It was the spring of 2009, Leigh's last in Dallas as an SMU coed before she graduated in May and left to find her fortune in the Big Apple. We had decided to go for a run on the Katy Trail. I told her to bring her ID and she looked at me with that look which said "OK, but?" I had a surpise in mind so I let her wonder and she did not push. We ran out two miles turned around and ran back one mile, which after water at the trail fountain and a short walk, brought us to the Knox street crossing and Ta Louse. It was a day very similar to yesterday, sunny, 70's. We sat down. I ordered us a bottle of wine (she was 21 but I was not taking chances...hence the ID) and some mussels cooked in a white wine and garlic sauce just perfect for dipping the crusty warm french bread that came with the fruit and salad plate I had also ordered. As we sat there eating the marvelous food, flush from a great run and conversing about the future, Leigh's hopes to move to New York (she did) and find a job in publishing (she has). I remembered thinking, like the Jim Croce song, Time in a Bottle, that I wished I could put that moment in a bottle to savor again and again. Yesterday, on the run, as I passed Ta Louse, I realized that I could put time in a bottle, in my mind. I opened that bottle, remembered that wonderful day with Leigh and Ta Louse, and was grateful for the many blessings in my life.
Oh, and I did turn around at the 2.5 mile mark. I was feeling so high from the run and the memories I just kept running until I reached the beginning of the trail again...and had completed 5 Miles. Life is Good!
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