Old As Dirt.
I am old.
As old as dirt.
Old as mud. Old as the hills.
Wired.
Wiry.
Leathered legs.
Fit.
Still pretty fast. To the young I may be invisible.
But the trails know my name.
I know them.
They know me. The soft places.
Hard ones too.
Treachery of soft edges.
Allure of long stretches. Decades of sweat.
Falling on dry earth.
Tears from running out the grief of hard days. Loss.
Or the those that drop from the corner of laughing eyes from the fun runs, run with mates. From laughing hard. Some alive.
Some dead.
Some given up.
On it.
Living lives well fed. Medals once coveted.
Long forgotten.
Not important.
A jumble of tarnished, ribbon tangled memories.
Good, bad, great, terrific, sensational or average.
Races. I am old.
A leathery soft soul settled by the soothing sound of solitary runs.
In the old mud.
On the old hills.
An old dirt devil.
And I love it. This invisible well lived life.
THE LONG RUN.
It's the long runs alone.
Some say it's the loneliness of the long distance runner?
But the long distance runner know it to be another thing.
After a certain time.
A sense of peace falls over one.
It's not a lonely feeling at all.
It's the satisfying feeling of being truly alone.
Alone in the woods.
Alone on the hill.
Alone on the path.
Alone in the valley.
Alone at the crest.
It's a treasured sense.
The best.These moments alone.
Where the legs keep turning.
But the soul finds rest.
From the rest.
ULTRA.
Alone.
When we feel a bit bent.
When our spirit needs to be renewed.
Exhausted.
Spent. We return home always glad we went.
Some say it's the loneliness of the long distance runner?
But the long distance runner know it to be another thing.
After a certain time.
A sense of peace falls over one.
It's not a lonely feeling at all.
It's the satisfying feeling of being truly alone.
Alone in the woods.
Alone on the hill.
Alone on the path.
Alone in the valley.
Alone at the crest.
It's a treasured sense.
The best.These moments alone.
Where the legs keep turning.
But the soul finds rest.
From the rest.
ULTRA.
Alone.
When we feel a bit bent.
When our spirit needs to be renewed.
Exhausted.
Spent. We return home always glad we went.
FRESH IRONED UNDIES
I would watch her.
From the kitchen.
Iron, and iron.
And iron.
Pavarotti or another tenor playing loudly.
She would just stand.
Iron. Steam. Stare.
Iron. Stare. Steam.
Stare. Steam. Iron.
The laminate dining table beside her.
We all had a pile in it's particular spot.
Where we all would sit if we ever ate there.
But that was just once a year.
The undies where what got to me?
Why iron undies?
No logic.
A totally unstable thing to do?
But, the way she did it was beautifully efficient and exact.
There they sat.
At the end.
In dad's spot.
In a perfect freshly steamed super white Y front on the top vertical stack.
IMPRESSIVE.
At 16 I offered to reduce her load.
IRON.
So naturally I asked.
Do I really have to iron dad's undies?
It's weird!
What's the point?
Nobody sees them!
SILENCE.
She was a legal secretary once.
High level.
So this long awaited answer will be good.
She just looked at me and laughed.
"I never really though about it? Just did it"
From the kitchen.
Iron, and iron.
And iron.
Pavarotti or another tenor playing loudly.
She would just stand.
Iron. Steam. Stare.
Iron. Stare. Steam.
Stare. Steam. Iron.
The laminate dining table beside her.
We all had a pile in it's particular spot.
Where we all would sit if we ever ate there.
But that was just once a year.
The undies where what got to me?
Why iron undies?
No logic.
A totally unstable thing to do?
But, the way she did it was beautifully efficient and exact.
There they sat.
At the end.
In dad's spot.
In a perfect freshly steamed super white Y front on the top vertical stack.
IMPRESSIVE.
At 16 I offered to reduce her load.
IRON.
So naturally I asked.
Do I really have to iron dad's undies?
It's weird!
What's the point?
Nobody sees them!
SILENCE.
She was a legal secretary once.
High level.
So this long awaited answer will be good.
She just looked at me and laughed.
"I never really though about it? Just did it"
