This weekend was jam packed full of BASEBALL, BASEBALL & more BASEBALL.
A two-day tournament that started early on both Saturday & Sunday required an even earlier start because of the long drive.
With 3 games today and a 10 mile run on my schedule, I packed my running gear and thought "5 before the start of the first game. 5 more before the afternoon game." If things got crazy, well, I'll do 5--2 mile runs. Whatever I have to do to get'er done.
At the buttcrack of dawn, we're packing up to head to the game.
We arrive at the field. Jman unpacks his gear, Mr. Tea heads to the bench & I grab my water, garmin....and well just for the heck of it, I'll bring my watch. Yes, it's overkill; I already have my garmin.
As I start running, I feel particularly.....
hmmmm what's the right word?
AWESOME
I don't know why. My love-hate relationship with running is like a reality show. We send each other notes on the sly talking about how great our time will be together once we can sneak away. Yet, it never fails that we're cursing day each other was born at the end of a speed day or long run.
Yet, as soon as I start running. I feel different. Yes, there are hills. Not like where I live, but they're hills all the same.
Just as I hit a half mile, my garmin dies. Now, I count on my garmin for times like this...I've been known to get lost. Only to flip the switch on the garmin to allow me to track backwards.
The garmin is 8 years old. Mr. Tea bought it for me to replace my even older one. We've had some good runs me and the garmin. I guess, technology doesn't last forever. I've worn out my welcome at the Garmin support desk, even gotten the *restraining* order via certified mail (WHATEVA).
So, when the garmin died. I remembered back to so many years of wonderful runs. I look at the garmin with it's blank screen....hold my fists up to the air and scream: ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME? YOU HAVE TO DIE NOW YOU LOUSY PIECE OF SH!T?!
Give or take a few expletives, I realized that in some strange twist of fate that I had my watch with me. The sky opened up and the angels came out singing "You can still run 30 out and 30 back and not worry about distance sweetie".
But I don't know WHERE I'M GOING! There are GOATS in the street up ahead. GOATS!
I stand in the middle of the street....yes the middle....what's gonna happen? I'm gonna get run over by a goat? I look west: ominous. I look east: definitely my better option.
I squint ahead. I see a dot moving. By george! It's a MAN! And he's RUNNING! Follow that LOCAL!
I see him off in the distance. As previously mentioned, I feel
AWESOME
I have no idea how fast I'm running, but I know it is considerably faster than my normal long run pace. But my heartrate...make that PERCEIVED HEARTRATE thanks to that LOUSY PIECE OF SH!T DYING....is low.
I follow the local. He weaves in and out of country roads and then turns into suburbia. I'm slowly catching up to him when I look down at my watch and realize, time's up, time to head back to catch the game.
Of course, that's when I realize that I was so focused on the Man, that I didn't pay attention to how I ended up where I am.
I quickly send a txt msg to Mr. Tea saying "GREAT RUN! On my way back"
No need to worry the poor man.
I look North.....that looks familiar....then South....that looks familiar.
I scratch my head, bite the inside of my cheek. Just then an old light blue Ford pick up truck pulls up. An old man about 130 years old in a red baseball cap rolls down his window and says something that sounds like, "Wharya goan? Ye luk lohst."
I squint at him a moment while my brain attempts to translate this new language. Ah yes, got it. My brain sends down the message: "Young lady. You seemed troubled. Might I assist you in your wanderings?"
"Yes!" I go over to his window and the stench of old tabaccy climbs up my nostrils "I'm looking for Pioneer Park"
"Yerkinder fer from 'neer. yer ned to get yerself t'oldhaer road"
"Toddler Road?" I look at him questioningly.
"TODE lahk frog. TODEHARK road"
Who the hell names a street TOADHAWK?" Aren't those things mutually exclusive? I mean, on the food chain their paths don't even cross.
I step away from the truck, thank the old man.
Good, I think to myself, I just need to get to TODDLER F*CKING ROAD and I would prefer avoiding any type of Deliverance type people while I'm doing it.
Eventually, well 15 minutes later I find myself face to face with the herd of goats, and I know I'm on the right path. Things in the road are starting to look familiar: I remember that beer can, that old tire, the red thong. I'm on my way back.
Just then, I hear a loud crack that seemed to be coming from the trees. I peer through the trees to see a baseball game just starting and a player running to first.
I.made.it.
Let's PLAY BALL!!
