2013 has had me on somewhat of an inward looking kick, and I’ve felt more
determined to understand the stupid, and often irrational workings of my inquisitive
mind. When you really stop and consider all the things racing through your
brain in any given day, or any given hour for that matter, it’s pretty intense.
And in my case, it’s more telling than I’d perhaps liked to face. Let’s take a
look-sie.
1:17pm – I found
myself pulling into one of my favorite hike/trail running destinations, and
snagging the last parking spot in a 15-space lot. I punched my fist upward
through the sun-roof in celebration. I’m the absolute best at getting parking
spots!, I thought, feeling mostly great about life.
Hitting the trail and switching-on my trusty podcasters, I realized only one ear bud worked in my headphones. The worst. I scaled the mini-mountain, straining to hear of an apparent endemic sweeping the country called vocal fry - the Valley-girl manner of speaking, which is low, shaky and annoying. I tried to mimic it aloud while passing several hikers with unnecessary walking sticks. I judged them for needing hiking sticks on a trail flat enough for me to run. Whatever. I kept trudging along, arriving upon a group of women all craning their necks upward at the final sliver of the trail leading to the summit. Knowing my eyesight and the ridiculousness of even trying to make out what they were staring at, I breezed by the ladies and made my way directly into their visual trajectory. What if they’ve spotted a wild animal? A javelina, or Mountain Lion? Wouldn’t they alert a fellow hiker? Probably not, since women are vicious and I’m wearing my running tights. They make me seem even skinnier than I am.
Hitting the trail and switching-on my trusty podcasters, I realized only one ear bud worked in my headphones. The worst. I scaled the mini-mountain, straining to hear of an apparent endemic sweeping the country called vocal fry - the Valley-girl manner of speaking, which is low, shaky and annoying. I tried to mimic it aloud while passing several hikers with unnecessary walking sticks. I judged them for needing hiking sticks on a trail flat enough for me to run. Whatever. I kept trudging along, arriving upon a group of women all craning their necks upward at the final sliver of the trail leading to the summit. Knowing my eyesight and the ridiculousness of even trying to make out what they were staring at, I breezed by the ladies and made my way directly into their visual trajectory. What if they’ve spotted a wild animal? A javelina, or Mountain Lion? Wouldn’t they alert a fellow hiker? Probably not, since women are vicious and I’m wearing my running tights. They make me seem even skinnier than I am.
1:45pm – On the
summit and no wild animals to boot. I looked out at the endless horizon, and
the expanse of the city spread all around me. Seemed hazy. I descented
carefully at first, and then stretched it out into a jog. Hearing the pitter
patter of my footsteps, hikers ahead would scoot to the right to let me pass.
I’d exhale some form of a ‘thank you’ as I passed, except at the same group of
unnecessary hiking stick folks, who scooted to the side and instead yelled
“THANK YOU” to me as I passed.
Whether they were mind readers or not, it fueled the duration of my run.
2:00pm – Driving
back, my mind felt light, as it does often after a good workout. The weather
was warm, and I embraced it by inviting the sun directly into my lap via the
sunroof. Tranquility. The breeze. NPR
game shows. And a disgruntled minivan who cut me off! Maintaining my lifelong
principle of showing bad drivers the errs of their ways, I sped up alongside
the van to find a middle-aged woman with thick brown bangs, and a purposeful scowl.
As I grimaced at this lady, she raised her eyebrow back my way, making it clear
her conduct was intentional. Fury. Why is
that acceptable behavior? Maybe she’s just having a hard day. Maybe she has had
a hard YEAR, perhaps just gotten a divorce, or hates her job. At the least,
she’s dissatisfied with her bang situation.
2:07 – I was
greeted at the grocery store by a throng of little girls.
“Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?”
“No thank you. Not for me, ladies. But keep up the good work,” I encouraged.
“No thank you. Not for me, ladies. But keep up the good work,” I encouraged.
I made a bee-line for the prosciutto, and I thought about
turning down the girl scouts, and that maybe I owed them a bit more
explanation. Something letting them know I supported them, but that I didn’t
eat sweets. Or, that I was on a diet. Or that I was poor. Or allergic. None of which came to fruition,
since as I approached the deli, my eyes were met by the fierce gaze of a man
wearing a hooded sweatshirt. His hood was up. I walked by him, feeling preyed
upon, but not losing sight of my prosciutto prize. I snagged the last package -
I’m awesome at getting parking spots, and
bringing home the bacon! – and breezed back by the creeper. He didn’t
bother to conceal his gaze this time, and used his head as an extension of the
spectating, making sure to pivot precisely as I passed. I wondered if he was a registered sex offender.
2:17pm – Out the
automatic doors, and past the Girl Scouts. Why
throughout all these years has this organization not considered branching out
beyond cookies? They might consider flowers, or gift cards, or something a bit
more universally appealing.
…..
This exercise might cause one to surmise I’m a bit of a
narcissistic jerk. Some of it comes with human nature. Much of it seems to be
attached to my personality. None of it, I hope, should be irreparable. All of
it will be forgotten by the setting of the sun, and the indulgence in red wine.