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Folders

TestJun 12th 2012, 12:15am
Pair of ninesSep 27th 2010, 5:04am
A Winter StoryDec 14th 2009, 5:28am
Micah TrueOct 21st 2009, 4:38am
Circadian RhythmsMay 8th 2009, 6:32pm
 

 

A Winter Story

Published by
Ginger   Dec 14th 2009, 5:28am
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Some runs....are just runs....some are epic....and some are....special.

 

Today’s run started....a week ago.  A birthday run, generously accommodating Ginger’s delayed schedule.  Coyotes gathered, feet pattered, stories unfolded....

 

Wronny began with a confession.  She had accepted a 3rd place medal that was later pre-empted by an update in finish times.  She had left the race early and still possessed the now tainted medal.

 

Herold followed with a warning.  He recalled a Coen brothers movie depicting a curse, that cascaded through innocent generations, tethered to their ancestors misplaced judgment.

 

Ginger felt the pain.  Sweating tequila, garlic and Vitamin I, he savored his senior status and imagined another name.  Spiritual, irreverently religious....a new leader born...Mohammered.  Much to live up to, but somehow achievable.

 

They kicked off....D street....down river.  Ignoring a “No Trespassing” sign where enormous contraptions pivoted and lifted like some cold-blooded Jurassic animals.  Over Knickerbocker Bridge, and through the cut-off path to Hendrick’s Park (surprisingly unknown to Herold).  Yet, leaving the path, he remarked “Here is the neighborhood, Elaine and I know so well”.

 

A tainted medal, curses lurking in the Hendricks’ firs and a hubris of seniority simmered in the sweat of these striding coyotes.

 

We carried Wronny’s labored breathing to Pre’s Rock, up the Hendrick’s trail climb and that glorious descent from on high! Mohammered, invigorated by his elder status, opened a stride and effortlessly, thoughtlessly left his fellow coyotes behind.  Herold and Wronny came upon a juncture, Herod said left, Wronny said straight and off they went....coyotes in the mist.

 

Mohammered descended, waited for the flock, along came Wronny, no Herold in sight.  They purred and paced, ventured and pursued, this wandering coyote, our prophet, the dude.

 

The story remains appropriately vague.  It appears Herold wandered....40 minutes, or more....where, we’re not sure....across a desert or maybe a park. 

 

Upon return, stories we’re told

Some intriguing, some quite bold

We may never know, where he went

More importantly, what it all meant,

Tainted medals, a haunting curse

Senior coyotes, troubling verse

We’ll remember this story, this special tale

Of coyotes lost, on urban trails.

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History for Ginger
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