What are you doing here?
The weekend was filled with scattered thought and moralistic sniffing. I took home made banana bread to the neighbors - we have to get rid of it somehow, pretty soon I'll be making midnight runs and stashing the loafs in mailboxes . . .
I re-read "Burn Marks", the Sara Paretsky created V.I. Warshawski novel, and, apparently, I have a crush of Warshawski. Unrequited love with a fictional character . . . thinking about it, that's what most unrequited love is, only a dream merits that much devotion, a real person would have to let you down someplace or sometime - it's our nature.
I took Good Ol' Dog to the dog park yesterday. My elbow is feeling better but my accuracy is very off and I was only getting 50 yards on my throws. Good Ol' Dog is getting fitter. She will soon need a new name (from me anyway). She's starting to move like a 4 year old dog instead of a little ol' lady dog.
Coming back from the dog park we made some small discoveries: The cocky rabbit lives in a bush that we walk by.
We got to within 3 feet of it! At first I thought maybe it was a brain damaged bunny but now I'm certain it is just a joker. It was sprawled on the path with it's eyes closed, digging the sun. When we approached it the rabbit YAWNED! Got to it's feet, wiggled it's nose at us in a very disrespectful way then strolled into it's clump of bushes!
Good Ol' Dog was in hot pursuit. An unsuccessful pursuit of course, for which I received and accept all blame . . .
We also saw a mallard duck momma with 13 little ducklings that looked identical to the little duckling we saw yesterday. The little duckling that the geese were trying to murder, I mean.
It would be nice to think that little battling duck was one of the happy 13. I've no way of knowing for certain so I'll opt for the happy ending.
Then we came across Pink Girl walking with a guy. She acted very embarrassed, like she was afraid I'd stop liking her because she was seeing someone. I thought he was a jerk. He tried to get tough with me! I thought he was funny and probably destined to have a short life. Why he would get jealous of me because his gal pal got giggly around me is absurd. That he thought he could get tough with anyone is suicidal. I had about 5 inches and 40 pounds on him and he didn't look like he worked out (walk with splayed feel, very flat footed, no grace or restrained speed and, most telling, no scars on his face or hands).
I was glad to see her, and glad to see her happy. I didn't have a long talk as the histrionics of the boy friend were making me laugh too much.
Besides, what I know of Pink Girl she'll have him down twisted soon enough.
My next door neighbor has been waving at me. She's a jogger. She runs with her boyfriend who is woefully out of shape so I can't get a handle on her talent ability. She's got the height, the shoulders and the build to be a good middle distance runner. I've seen her look good running and I've seen her look bad.
I've been devoting time thinking about asking her if she'd like some coaching. I'm stopped only because I'm not certain if I want to get back into coaching at all. It's not doubt it's knowing the strain and stress that comes from handling any athlete, even just a dreamer. Maybe the dreamers take the most out of me, more even then the ultra talent who squander their ability.
I see so many bad runners, people who clearly have no idea of how to run, who are going only by miles covered instead of style and technique. They say, "Ah, did 2 miles today!" when the actual benefits from their poor style gave them maybe one quarter the benefit in either their appearance or speed and stamina. I want to make sure that, if I return to coaching in even this form, that my motives are right and not just a knee jerk reaction to stupidity.
I know I'm just a dumb ex-jock but seeing people run with tight shoulders or crossing their arms is as stupid to me as I was to them during those times when I had to read aloud in class.
There's some small drama on the horizon; nothing that touches me deeply. When you're in the right, know it, have had it proven once - the aftermath feels merely frustrating.