I've come to the realization that when I go running at the park, no one else is travelling in my direction. Almost everyone that I meet while tromping along the 1.5 mile asphalt loop around park and pond is going clockwise, whereas I go counter. Weird. The realization was one of those paranoia inducing moments out of the Stepford Wives or The Body Snatchers, where first you begin to doubt your own sanity, and then you begin to doubt everyone else's--which is really the same thing, when you think about it.
Speaking of paranoia, here's a couple of pages out of my Rorschach-style running journal (got to get me a cool mask like his and a new moniker--Loveschach, maybe?).
Friday, March 27, 8:00 a.m.: Ran three loops, walked one. Listened to Monsters of Rock Playlist on random, heard many post-Peter but pre-makeupless Kiss songs.
Sunny day, light frost on grass and mist like demon breath on pond. Passed eight people, all going opposite direction. The man who wears Caulfield-style red cap with ear flaps. The cute elderly couple who feed squirrels. Lone stationary fisherman. D&D coffee guy. The two women who talk with their hands. A parks and rec guy I never saw before.
Was hissed at by Canada goose. Mate a few feet away on the shore. Protecting nest. Progeny to follow, more birdies to be laid against the foundations. Cute elderly couple scattered seeds on walkway; squirrels slow, almost obstinate, about getting out of the way. Glad I wore my gloves.
Saturday, March 28, 1:00 p.m.: Ran four loops, walked one. Loops two and three in exactly the same time according to iPod stopwatch. Still listening to MOR on random; but randomizer played songs three and four from side one of Iron Maiden's Powerslave in sequence. Evidence of ordered pattern to universe? Probably not.
Beautiful day, if one judges such things according to warmth and available light. Counted thirty two different people in travels today, only one going same direction. Young woman, walking swiftly, seemed to flinch when I passed her on the right.
Saw Holden Cap guy, D&D coffee guy, and other elderly couple who pick up trash, absent Friday. Community service, removing trash from park. Can never remove enough. Signs at entrance of park say no dogs, no wheels. Nearly crashed into by family of four on bikes. Two just learning to ride. Unleashed Pekingese leaves two piles of waste equal in mass to Pekingese on walkway; pair of leashed children restrained from petting dog. On third lap, saw both piles with waffle-weave tread in center. A plethora of strollers, only half of which with visible babies.
Monday, March 30: 7:45 a.m.: Ran three loops, walked one. Listened to Blast!, playlist of fast songs. First song Misfits' "This Island Earth". Significant?
Gray day, damp. Passed eleven people. Elderly couple that feeds squirrels, elderly couple that picks up trash, D&D coffee guy, Old Holden, talks-to-himself guy, two parks and rec guys working on the gazebo, one of the two women who talk with their hands, woman who I've never seen before. No other runners, but there aren't usually in the mornings.
All moving opposite me; lone boat beating against the tide. Metaphor? Or big hill avoidance strategy on their part? Cluster of squirrels on third hill, second loop little furry balls of resentment. Many are missing tails. Canada goose does not hiss; we've reached an understanding. Pekingese piles squashed flat by waffle treads, hard scabs on skin of the world, resistant to all elements. My side itches. Passed talks-to-himself-guy three times in one loop. Possible? Or some type of tachyon interference? Even elderly couple who pick up trash seem sullen today; greeting on each loop increasingly awkward experience. Wonder what's for lunch?