July the 21st Days in History

July 21st
1967 Jimmy Foxx baseball hall of famer died.
1984 James Fixx runner & author, dies at age 43 of a heart attack died.
1873 Jesse James, 1st train robbery


For one thing I thought it was strange that two people who died on July the 21st the only difference in their last name is the i and the o. Each had the unusual 2 x ending. And of course, they both started with F. Another strange thing was that all three are named James.

James Fixx was a running guru. He ran and looked at every aspect of running from every angle. He wrote two books on running and annually he put out a Runner’s Diary – which was a unique way to keep running tallies on days, weeks, months, and for the year. Each page represented a week of 7 days on one of the opened pages and the other either had a photograph of someone running or a short tale of inspiration. I bought his books and his Runner’s Diary and treated them sacredly and for a while I lived by his books, they were my Bible.

Then James Fixx suddenly died. He died on the side of the road while running. Heart failure.

Did he cover the part about some people die instantly while running because of putting too much stress on their hearts? I don’t remember reading anything about that.

What James Fixx left out of his books inspired me the most. I slowed down and decreased my running about 50%, then maybe 25%, and now I am lucky to run 2 or 3 miles a week.

Of course, we all know Jesse James.

Music to Walk Peppy To

Lately on my walks I have been paying more attention to the music I walk to. I try to listen to words and get the beat of the music.

Why? To get my money’s worth, that’s why!

I bought a MP3 player several months ago and became a collector of music again. I joined the emusic download and have downloaded a bunch of songs, mostly songs from about 1950 to about 1975 but occasionally catch a stray in another time period I might like.

I am also copying LP albums and CDs and converting them into the MP3 format.

In the past few days I have listened to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy which I think is very good – very high energy big-band boogy woogie type of music. You can just about imagine someone wearing a thick shoulder padded zoot-suit “cutting a rug”.

Also another interesting group is the Swinging Medallions – which is also fast pace kind of hot summer beach boy beer drinking kind of music. Interesting, the group is a family with a mama and papa – not unlike the Partridge Family or very much unlike the Partridge Family… and those boys sing and pantomime such sexual innuendoes. I have seen them perform at various venues in Cobb County. They have a good beat – they are just not a household word like Jimmy Buffet… but probably have the same type of live audience. Years ago I bought two CDs at their concerts. I'm still getting mileage out of them.

And yesterday I escaped back into my formative years and listened to Piano Red. Piano Red was a blues singer on the Atlanta predominantly black radio station WAOK. He would sing and rap that piano and talk suggestive sweet nothings into the microphone… he seemed he put his heart into it… he did the same on the CD I have.

Years after I used to listen to him on WAOK we went into a bar in Underground Atlanta and he was the entertainment. By then he was an old man but he had the joint rocking.

Sometimes I feel like dancing on my walk… would I look like a fool? Would Willow pretend she doesn’t know me?

A Good Deed for a Day

One morning while walking Willow not long ago, almost a half mile from our starting point, I noticed in a driveway what looked like a checkbook.

I didn’t touch it. We continued our walk.

We walked about 1.5 miles and were coming back and I started thinking about that checkbook looking imitation leather lying in that driveway. I shouldn’t have just let it stay there. I should have picked it up and carried it to the house and knock or ring and ask if it was their checkbook, or whatever.

OK, if it was still there, that is exactly what I will do I told Willow. She looked up at me and I’m not sure if she was panting or laughing at me.

The checkbook looking thing was still there. It was closer to the street than I thought. It was only about 18” up the driveway.

I picked it up and walked up to the front door. A climbing vine complex with leaves completely covered the front door. It hasn’t been opened in years.

I walked around to the carport, in between three cars in the upper part of the driveway. As I found out, the cars had no room to park in the carport. The whole carport area was covered with junk, old furniture, and toys.

There was a trail, sort of, that led to the carport-kitchen door. I felt like if I walked up to the door and rung the doorbell or knocked I would be intruding. Somebody at that house probably would rather people not see all that stuff.

I looked at my watch, “Besides, it is 6:30 on a weekend the morning.” I thought. “Being awaken at this time of the morning up may not give them a thrill either.”

So, I laid the checkbook down in the middle of the path leading to the door. When somebody came out they would have to step on it or kick it. … by the way, when I was easing it down I noticed money greenery – it had at least a $10 bill was in it, probably more.

I hope they got it. And if they did, I hope it was theirs.

Old Man Hunter

I went for my semi-annual cardiologist appointment yesterday. The doctor said everything, as far as they could tell, looks good, keep up the good work.
(translation: don’t change insurance companies).

He also said for my next appointment it will be about time for a nuclear stress treadmill test – so wear some comfortable shoes.

That reminded me of the last nuclear stress treadmill test I had about two years ago. They found a blockage in my heart. The doctor did a catherization on me to go in and look my blockage and repair if necessary, such as installing another stint or something.

He went in and discovered that my cardio system repaired itself. It made it’s own bypass. It built its own little group of veins or blood carrying tubes or membrane pipes over the blocked area. He said there was nothing for him to do but marvel at this nature wonder and withdraw the tiny little camera through by crouch. And he added, “Nice doing business with you.”

During the update he told me he credited my cardio exercises of increasing my heart-rate every day by running or biking…. Getting the blood pumping it had to find its own way to make its route.

It reminded me of the time I went to the Mississippi River Museum on Mud Island in Memphis. The museum showed many times that Old Man River rerouted itself because of a blockage. Nature is something isn't it?

Snap! Back to present. Also when he told me that I reminded myself I am not exercising like I did then. I haven’t ran in several months and haven’t rode my bike but twice this year. I still try to walk daily, but in the recent weeks I haven’t even had time to do that.

I got to make time. I have to start raising that heart rate again. Back to pounding the terrain and back on my bike. Yahoo!!

Sunday Evening Bike Ride

Yesterday evening I went on a bike ride.

I try to ride my bike at least two times a week, which seems to always hard to schedule in.

I first rode down Sandy Plains Road and in a shopping center we frequent. This shopping center has a high occupant turnover. It is always interesting to see what is gone and what is new.

This time the vacant store next to where Anna has her nails done is no longer vacant. HOT DOG PLACE is there. Well, HOTDOG! They were closed. It looked like they have been in operation for a few days – some of the smaller lights in the establishment were on – but hopefully closed because it was Sunday evening….. I mean, who goes out and buys hotdogs on Sunday evenings?

I did a skateboarder’s special and whipped my bike up on the curb and glided up to the window and looked in. There is a big menu sign on the wall, by the counter that says ORDER HERE.

There is another sign, under the ORDER HERE sign that says IF YOU ARE UNSURE STEP ASIDE TO LET SOMEONE ELSE ORDER WHILE YOU MAKE UP YOUR MIND. I like that. Many times I have had to stand idle by while a couple or a family study a wall menu in detail, and maybe even upside down.

The wall menu offered several kinds of hotdogs and things like cooked in beer, bratwurst, sausages, etc. Under the heading FREE TOPPINGS they had chili, raw onions, horse radish, and all the regular and rare condiments.

I’ll have to pay them a visit and check them out one day when they are opened. I doubt if they will out-do Brandi’s World Famous Hotdogs – you have other things to factor in, like the people and spicy chili.

I rode on to Sprayberry High School and rode around the perimeter of the student parking lot and headed back the way I came… I wanted to look at that hotdog menu again.

On my way back, entering the first street of our subdivision a paneled pickup truck was parked on the street by the first driveway.

A tall man with a thick crop of stark white hair walked around the truck carrying a bucket of either green plums or green apples. I recognized him. It was Mr. M. He lived a block away.

I quickly mentally reminded myself that his next door neighbors bought the house next to where his truck was parked and moved there. They probably told him of the tree full of apples or plums. Incidentally, they moved into the house they bought but they did not move from the other house. They occupy both houses. We are not quiet sure why – and it really isn’t none of our business.

Mr. M. did not notice me. He leaned against the truck with one hand and holding the bucket with the other hand and started puffing. He was puffing in and out.

It reminded me of the time I had my heart-attack. I huffed and puffed. My body automatically turned on the huffing instinct. I think my heart was not getting enough oxygen and my huffing and puffing machine defaulted itself on.

I pedaled slowly up the hill turning the bike sideways to see how Mr. Music was doing. I was thinking about going back down and asking him could I help him and he got into his truck. By the time I got to the top of the hill he had slowly pulled out into the other street and was headed to his house, which was just around the corner.

By the time I got to his house he was backing into his driveway. I bet he will not mention his huffing and puffing episode to his wife.

And I pedaled the 5 more blocks to home, huffing and puffing.

Peachtree Road Race on the 4th of July

My last Peachtree Road Race number.

I ran the Peachtree Road Race every year from 1982 to 1987. Well, that is only six, but it seemed like more. It is an annual event in Atlanta which started in the early 1970s.

My son Rocky has ran it a number of years now, probably by now he has ran it more than my six times. He will be running in it tomorrow.

I had my number for the 1988 race and a day before the race my sister-in-law called in the morning and said her husband (Anna’s brother) had evidently died at Lake Juliet about 20 miles north of Macon, Georgia. While swimming alongside a friend in a row boat he went under and did not come back up.

Anna’s family was in turmoil. I decided not to run the Peachtree and looked in want ads and found someone living not far away that wanted to buy a number to run. I called him and sold it to the guy. It was an easy transaction, no bickering.

My father also died about ten days later, but at moment that was yet to come.

Getting back to the Peachtree Road Race, The years that I ran I would always go down to the starting area, on Peachtree Road in front of Lenox Square Mall the Sunday before the race and run the route. Why? Because it was fun.

Usually on the Sunday morning pre-run practice there are several hundred running. I remember one Sunday morning, while running, seeing an aged dirty looking homeless person gnawing on a bone by a garbage can in an alley that ran beside a restaurant.

The Sunday run is just a fun trial run. And you even got a tee-shirt at the end in Piedmont Park. Each year, or most of the years, somebody at the finish line was handing out Trust Company of Georgia Tee-shirt. It had a big T on the front.

Each year I would collect my Trust Company “T” shirt, and get my bike that I chained to a post before hand and pedal back to Lenxo.

On the 4th,the day of the real race, which isn’t a “real” race unless you are a noted runner there are much more people there. I think when I ran the participants were limited to 25,000. Now, I think it is double that, if not more.

At the starting line you are placed according to your number. I always rated in the last segment, or the slowest. I have seen people like Jimmy Carter ready to run, also anchor man John Pruett, and some other local newsmen.

Behind a big tall building near Lenox was a patch of woods. Once, I thought that was a good place to pee. When I got there, behind almost every bush was a girl’s head hunkered over taking care of business.

There was also what they called “The World’s Longest Latrine” which was shielded from view by a long hanging canvas…. The men would stand alongside a very long cement parking lot rain gully and relieved themselves. Once I was there and a bunch of women came rushing in telling the men to move over and squatting over the gulley. And other women came rushing in to with their cameras taking pictures…. It was a riot, or almost one.

In the race, in the back part, after the gun shot or whatever went off and people began moving slowly forward, you had to walk almost a mile before the people around you could pick up their pace to a run.

It was always fun and interesting to be part of that moving force. More than once, groups of Marines were near me singing in cadence. I remember once lady painted green and dressed like the Statue of Liberty.

At points, starting I think at Cardiac Hill, which the hill Piedmont Hospital is on, volunteers were on the side with water cups. You would gulp the water and throw the cup down and keep on running, maybe the next water stop you would splash the water in your face to cool off.

At the finish line you got in line for your official Peachtree Road Race t-shirt and another line for a free beer. I understand the free beer is a thing of the past.

Interesting, I remember a fast female runner that the Atlanta Track Club invited to run and also invited her to give a speech at the finish line when all the festivities ere taking place, which she did. Then, an hour of so later, we were driving up Peachtree and there was the same lady, in her same running outfit, walking back the six mile trip alone. I felt for her, it was like she was no longer needed.

The whole run, from start to finish was like a mad-house… a fun mad-house.

That was many years and pounds ago.

2 Stories For the Price of One

I have never considered myself a mechanical minded person. And neither has anybody else considered me that. But today, I did a mechanical feat and even have a sore back to prove it, or you might say “back” me up… pardon the pun.

I spent several hours yesterday visiting Free-Flite Bikes and Radio Shack. I visited each twice. Early yesterday on my bike my odometer did not register my distance or speed, or the other stuff, like average speed, time in motion, and all that. The face of my odometer just showed 0’s. I figured it had to be the battery – but if it was the battery, why did anything show at all. So, I went to where I bought my bike, Free-Flite Bikes for a new battery. They were out, so I went to Radio Shack, that the battery, installed it and it still didn’t work. Then I realized it had to be calibrated to my bikes wheel circumference and I had no idea how. I took the thing off the bike and went to Free-Flite again and one of the people there took the time to set it for me. He even printed me off a manual.

I thanked him and mentioned that I hope it worked now. He said it should unless it is on the wheel fork – the thing that counts the magnet transmits its count by a battery too, he said.

On the way home I decided that had to be it! The battery on the fork. Because the 0’s showed fine… well, at least I got a new battery for the face, it would soon conk out anyway.

I put the monitor on the bike and rode up the street. Sure enough, no signal. It had t be battery in the gizmo on the fork.

I looked at the newly printed manual the nice guy printed for me and saw that the fork gizmo took the same type of battery. So, back to Radio Shack and I bought the 2nd, CR2012 battery.

I went back home and had a hard time putting it on. The only way I could see I could reach it was from the other side of the wheel, reaching through the spokes… then, my thick fingers did not leave me enough torque and strength to unscrew the thing to take out the old battery and put in the new one.

Wait! I had an idea! Why not twist the thing around so it would be facing me on the same side of the wheel facing me, which I did, and everything worked perfectly… except I strained my back, reaching through the spokes, I would find out three or four hours later.

But then, I took it for another test drive and it worked great!

I am thinking of opening up a bicycle repair shop.

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After Anna came home from work we went to Roswell to eat at a new barbecue place she read about. The name of it is “Spice Right”, and it in the historical section of Roswell. Apparently it is ran by two young men, under 35, and they are trying to yuppie the place up. It looks like a dive. I don’t think an interior decorator came in and told them what would go good in this corner, and they needed a potted plant by this window, and what kind of music would go good. I have a feeling, if there is a spittoon on their floor, it would not be there for decoration.

Outside in the parking lot is a big smoker letting off smoke and that bbq smoky smell.

The blues music played loud like this type is supposed to be played.

And above all, the pulled pork was delicious and plentiful. The Brunswick stew was delicious and so were some kind of potato cakes they pushed. The cole slaw was so-so.

When we arrived at 5:30 there was a another couple there. They left. And when we left at about 6:00pm, right when the dinner hour starts and there were no customers. I think they just need to grow on people more.

Friday Morning - Marietta Goes Insane

Willow and I went for our routine walk this morning.

I was somewhat amazed that a very long procession of cars were driving through our neighborhood. Was it a 7am funeral procession? That was the only logical explanation I could think of. Usually we see maybe two or three cars in motion during our morning walk, if we don't leave our neighborhood. More cars kept coming. Then I finally figured out, they were being detoured into our subdivision.

We followed the source of the steam of traffic. Just before we got to the intersection that is the subdivision entrance, on a hill, we were overlooking Sandy Plains Road. Emergency lights flashing were all over the road. Cop cars, fire trucks, backed up traffic, crowds of people standing... and just across the road was a huge new McMansion in full blaze. The roof was nearly gone with giant flames dancing around - it reminded me of Bart Simpson's head. Smoked was bellowing out - lack of a better word.

The McMansion that was burning is/was the first of three in a row on Sandy Plains Road. Before in the same place, were three old "shot-gun" houses. The middle of the Shot-gun houses had an armored knight suit standing on the front porch, and the first one, the one that was burning had a unchained dog that always barked fiercely at us, and one time with our late dog Brandy when we walked on the other side of the road it came out barking at us and was ran over and killed.

I rather have had that dog still barking and growlling at us than the beautiful pretentious McMansions.

We walked back home to get my camera. Then on the way back Willow felt nature calling, so she took a dump. I pulled out my plastic bags and scoop it up, but I didn't want to walk that far and then back home carrying a bag of dog shit, so we went back home.

I went out to buy a Wrap from Burger King. I cannot resist a new commercial's "come on".

Because of the fire, no matter which way I turned, there was backed up traffic. I changed my mind on various routes several times and turned around. It was like whole East Cobb had suddenly gone bananas.

I came in our subdivision through the back roads. When I turned onto Bryant Lane the traffic was backed up out of sight facing me, but the road was clean in front of me. As I was driving past the cars standing still a hand was waving. I stopped and an elderly lady told me I couldn't get out on Sandy Plains Road, there is a house on fire.

I said I know, and I live in the subdivision right down there (pointing). She looked at me like I was crazy and rolled up her window.

She didn't recognize me. She lives three houses away from me. Twice, on my walks we have talked over 5 or 10 minutes each time. Now, she looked me blankly in the face like she had never seen me before - which, in her memory, she hasn't.

The Tough Look

In the 80s I ran often. I would run for exercise and when there was an organized race, which happens often, I would run in those. Just about always the money your registration fee goes to a worthy cause and of course there is the pretty tee-shirt you get for the race. I have many race tee-shirts that accumulated through the years… now they are too small or I am too large…. Hmmm, I wonder which?

Have you noticed when you go to different events of the same type – say like bluegrass music – you start seeing the same faces? I have. And the same goes about races.

Most of the races were attended mostly by this area’s yuppies. Most of the runners had that yuppie Young Repubican look about them – except me. And also except three mean looking characters who would look at home in a prison yard.

They had many tattoos. Not the neat looking little type of tattoos you seem some upper income people wear, but things like evil looking scaly dragons with huge bloody fangs, and nude women. Their hair was long and not styled in anyway and maybe even matte. My first thought when I started seeing them at races were: pirates. They looked like pirates, I am surprised one of them didn’t have a one-eyed parrot sitting on his shoulder.

Their running shorts were raggedy. You could almost hear one yuppie after another take a deep breath after seeing their raggedy unstylish shorts. How horrible! A pair of shorts with a rip?! The yuppies also gasped when they saw the three men stand around smoking.

They just didn’t fit the typical runners’ profile at all. They didn’t give a shit.

All three ran and smoked and carried on a casual conversation. They had a good pace and stayed up front. I wonder if people parted like the Red Sea as to let them through.

They came as they went – after about a spring and summer of different races they vanished. I wonder what they did with their tee-shirts – tee shirts were not their style. No shirts or body shirts were their UFOD.

Boy, were they mean looking! Behind their closed doors at their homes they probably fretted about details and clipped coupons out of the paper and cuddled with a bed with full of Seseme Street characters.

Numbers! Bah!

Numbers that mean something, well, mean something – which means sometimes numbers may be interesting or even depressing.

For instance: My father lived 76 years. My mother lived 77 years. I think I can expect to live about that long, if I watch what I eat and exercise regularly.

I watched what I ate last night; one chunk of medium rare Flo’s Filet’ at a time.

However, I did go on a three mile walk this morning with Willow – and plan to go on a bike ride later today.

At any rate (heart rate, that is), with no unexpected wrecks or major accidents, I expect to live at least until I am 76 or 77. Which is ten or eleven years away.

Ten years is only 120 months. Eleven years is 132 years away.

One hundred and thirty two is not a very big number when each month seems to fly by.

I think you can sit back and enjoy it day by day – or maybe the answer is to be miserable (it will seem to last longer).

Numbers. Bah! Who needs them?

Ahhh - Fall Is In The Air!

Ah, Fall is in the air. There is a slightly cool pleasant breeze. On our morning walk there was just enough of a wind to make some leaves shake.

I wonder what that did do Willow smelling sense? Dog are suppose to be excellent smellers... and I guess a nice breeze might carry a good whiff of a raccoon or rabbit right up to her nose and by the wind's direction tell her if it is five o'clock direction or so on.

Which reminds me, the other day on our walk the other day, a cat came prising by taking it's own time. It was smart enough to know Willow as secured with a leash and it got within feet of Willow and sat down and cleaned it crotch. In the meantime, Willow was going wild, standing up trying to leap, whining, crying, if she just sink her took in that little smart ass... and the cat stretched, what looked to be a calculating aggravation, just a few feet away from the leash's length with her on the end. Then it sashayed on off.

Anyway some say it is light jacket weather, some say it is football weather. I say it is nice. Autumn and Spring are my two favorite times of the year.... not too hot, not too cold... just right.

The carpet is down and looks nice. Rocky came over yesterday and helped me bring boxes full of books and decorations up while Anna did the placing. If it wasn't for him and his youth we would be about 25% through now.

Going up and down those stairs toting things did a number on my leg joints and muscles. It may take a while to feel like running again. Walking is nice though. As Willow and I walked this morning I was thinking maybe it is time (age-wise) to quit running and be more consistent my my bicycle riding. If I could ride three times a week I would get a good cardio workout, about the same if I had ran, and not nearly as much pounding and impacting all those bones between my ass and the bottoms of my feet.

The down side of that is that biking can get unbearable cold. A pleasant breeze like today could feel much colder, especially, if you are over 50 or 60. However, I never have tried riding a bike dressed for cold weather - so that may be my answer.... duh!

Thursday's Exercise

Kudzu landscape

This morning I walked 62 minutes and ran 26 minutes. If one was watching me exercise they might say I made a feeble attempt to walk 88 minutes.

There is a teenager that lives two blocks from here that rides the bus. He is a tall gawky kid. I think he is probably 16 or 17 years of age and well over 6 ft tall. I have walked by him a number of times and he has yet looked up at me. He is always looking down. I think that is his regular demeanor – like he feels constantly intimidated. I would not be surprised to learn that he is picked on in high school.

In fact, maybe Willow would like to join the gang and pick on him too. We walked by him and Willow growled, which is very unlike her to growl at any being, animal or human. Even, when we got by him she looked back and gave a kind of under her breath bark, like a disapproving sound.

I think it is possible that Willow picked up something very negative about the guy.

We didn’t see him this morning because he were going by his stop earlier than usual to beat the heat.

However, a mile or so way, was a another bully target waiting on the bus. He was a scrawny little guy that looked very nerdy and studious. He was blankly looking into space, while, across the street was a heavy-set egomaniac teenage boy pacing back and forth with a sneer on his face looking at the kid, like he could not wait to get his hands on him and bully him some more. He reminded me of Mike Fink, the Keel Boat Captain and/or the bully-guy in the movie “Back To The Future”. I hate to profile, but big bullies with ego problems just act too much alike.

Then an unusual thing happened. An Indian teenager (Far Eastern) walked up to the bully and laughed about something and talked smoothly to each other. Apparently the Indian kid and the bully had some things in common and seemed to appreciate each other.

Wait! This goes against my profiling rules. The Indian (Far Eastern) kid is suppose to be standing, non-smiling, across the street by the nerdy kid, looking into space.

Is the whole world going mad?

I remember our biology teach in college telling us the sequence of events of when England declared Australia their colony and had British troops stationed there an Officer’s wife brought a cactus to plant in her new back yard. There was not natural enemy of the cactus, so it grew too much. To halt its growth, the British brought in rabbits to eat the cacti. Guess what, the rabbits had no natural enemy in Australia so the rabbit population got out of hand. So, then the Brits imported a certain kind of snakes that loved to eat rabbits… and guess what? You know.

Which brings me to mind my walk and run this morning. Not long ago, on long roads much of the countryside was overtaken by the running vine plant Kudzu. I think I read that Kudzu can grow a over a foot a day in the summer. Sometimes it is not unusual to see trees and deserted lost in Kudzu – it has sort of a surrealist look… piles of kudzu in shapes of houses, barns, and trees.

Kudzu was imported from Japan. It was imported to help prevent soil erosion. Guess what, it has no natural enemy. It overtook the south.

Now, a natural enemy to Kudzu has arrived. Unfortunately, it also the natural enemy to other natural forms of wildlife: The McMansion.

I'm the Leader of the Pack!

I quit running for a while because of the suspected heart problem the doctor thought I had. I kept up my walking.

Now, I am building up my running again with my trainer Willow. I have adding a minute each time I run. Today we ran 22 minutes and walked 46 minutes in the furnace outdoors.

The dog obedience teacher, the dog book I am reading, and the Dog Whisperer all say that dogs operate on a hierarchy system. You can argue politics all day with them but their instinct is to be a pact leader or follow a pack leader.

All three suggest you put yourself as the pack leader. At times I think Willow challenges my authority and tries to be the pack leader herself.

This morning while running she was running on my left. She saw something interesting on the right and cut across to smell it. I plowed right into her, stepping on her foot. She yipped and we both jumped.. I jumped away from the point of impact and so did she. Again, I landed on her foot. She yipped again.

After that she seemed to teach me with a new respect and stayed on my left side.

I am the new pack leader! When Anna is not around, anyway.

Walking With Willow

This is little things on walks with Willow the past week.

A chipmunk ran by and Willow made gave a tug on the leash to chase it but I tugged it and told her “Don’t, it will just taste like more.”

A shapely young lady ran by us and said, “Cute!”
Of course she meant the dog, but I immediately said in a way that I comprehended she was talking about me said, “Thanks!”
She laughed. So did Willow.

In a new subdivision with newly cut streets and no houses yet we came upon 12 Canadian Geese standing, apparently on a rest stop. The geese were divided into two groups, each having six members. The two groups were about fifteen feet part. Do flocks have sub-flocks. Or were there actually two groups who decided just happened to stop at the same area. I asked Willow did she think there were separate unrelated groups or two sub-groups making a larger group. She looked at me like she was saying, “Who cares?”

Then, I was thinking each year the geese base their flights on memory of the oldest. Say they landed in this subdivision with no houses – just new streets. And suppose next year they stop next year for the same rest stop – it might be in somebody’s swimming pool – which I am sure it would be ok with them.

A flock of geese flew over. Several of them were honking wildly like they were disagreeing with the leader on the course. Maybe it was the first year for the lead goose. Maybe he was a replacement – maybe the main lead goose got killed and they have to rely on a new one and some of the older heads knew he was off course.

We walk by a newly completed subdivision. The outside has sprinklers watering the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street and also the grass between the sidewalk and the wall of the subdivision. When Willow and I first ran down it the sprinklers got us wet and on our return Willow refused to go through that shower tunnel again. She just flat refused. So, we walked around into street. And two other times after that we had to walk to in the street.
I am thinking about calling somebody and complain. The sidewalk belongs to the county and so does the little strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street. Who over controls the sprinklers are barring Willow and I from using the sidewalk.

After walking about 20 minutes I start running. Willow has instantly picked up on that and starts running too. She gets so enthused over use running she ends up pulling me faster than I intended….. she has a lot of training she needs to do to me.

Excercise On My Bike

Sometimes I have to knock something around in my mind before I write it which might take days. Doesn’t my mind know I have a deadline?

Thursday instead of running and walking I chose biking as my exercise for the day. I rode a little over ten miles and one hour and 14 minutes. You might say, Hah! I can do a mile in less time than that. If you can, then you are not invited. Only I am allowed to win this race.

I rode down Sandy Plains Road which I picked up a half mile from my house. At the railroad tracks I turned around. My odometer said 4.25 miles. Late at night I can hear the train, which is that far away. Amazing how sound travels – especially when you don’t want it to.

You might ask, if it was 4.25 miles to the tracks shouldn’t it be 4.25 miles back, which will be only 8.5 miles instead of 10? Well yes, if you did question that you are right. On the way back I took two detours to ride through new sub divisions.

On Sandy Plains Road there is a dog care complex. It has a dog-day-car with a big fenced-in area with all kinds of colorful tunnels and inclines for the dogs to romp and play in. The only thing about that is dogs don’t always have good rapport between themselves and fights break out. Bloody fights. As I rode by I saw two vicious days trying to rip out each other’s jugular vein with a smiling Mexican man trying to pull them away from each other. I think blood spilling on the doggie playground would be a bad advertisement… that is while he was smiling. At least with him smiling it would show some happiness about it.

On the way back near Sprayberry High School ahead of me I saw two women walking rather large black dogs. As I got closer behind them I saw that the two women were very tall women, like their dogs. The two giant black dogs from ten or fifteen behind looked like Weimaraners. I pedaled along side the four walkers, said good morning and told them their dogs were beautiful and asked them were the dogs “Weims” (I don’t attempt to make a fool of myself and try to pronounce the real name).

One of the women said, “No, they are Giant Schauzers.”

About that time I got a better look at the two tall women. They had the same facial resemblance; the same curved lip, the same type of nose. I thought to myself: Twins!

And I also thought two giant twins. And they are walking two giant twin dogs as well!

They looked in their late 30s or early 40s. They were probably two singles twins who never married and now own a house together.

I continued my conversation. “I bet they don’t shed. My wife and I are considering a Schnauzer as a pet, we read they don’t shed very much.”

One of the human twins said, “Well, these shed a lot! They shed all over the place!”

I said, “We used to have a miniature – Schatzi – I don’t remember her shedding.”

And the same human twin said, “Well, these sure do!”

I was tempted to say, “Are you sure you two weren’t the ones shedding?” Then rear up my bike front wheel like Roy and Trigger might do, then ring my bell on the handlebars and speed off. But I didn’t.

On The Road Again

(Imagine Willie Nelson singing the above).

I am back on track - as far as exercise goes.

Monday I walked 3 miles; Tuesday 2.5 miles and ran 1.4 miles (estimated), and this morning I walked 3 miles again and ran 1.5 miles. I plan to slowly increase my running and walk with what is left over. In other words, I will first walk about a mile, then run my preplanned time, then walk home.

Until this week I haven’t ran since April the 24th. That was mostly due to the stress test findings and the nurse recommended that I not do any serious exercise until after the catherization and they find the problem. Then, after that I was on a roll of not doing exercise and it is hard to start the inertial first step. But, after you get over that it is smooth sailing, so to speak.

By the way, a doctor told Anna my heart performed its own bypass because of my continuation of strenuous exercising.

I don’t have to worry about competing with a runner from Kenya for the world’s fastest running pace or anything – if that comes up I will gladly forfeit. While running yesterday a long legged kid walking casually to his summer school morning class passed me on the side walk. He looked like he was casually strolling.

That reminded me when I used to run with our dog Brandy somebody made the comment I appeared to be giving it all running while running and the dog looked like she was casually walking. She probably could have even squatted and pee and it wouldn’t make a difference.

And this morning a young skinny legged girl shot around me as a wild rabbit would do. She was out of sight before I could even find a rock to throw at her.

Speaking of the turtles’ pace, also this morning I was running I ran a block into a new subdivision with big McMansions. On the side of the street near the curb was a good size turtle, probably as big as a volley ball if you squished the air out of it, lying there with its shell cracked and it was of course dead. He was ran over while trying to cross the street.

He didn’t go to civilization, civilization came to him.

Water and Good Parking Spaces

This morning was beautiful spring morning. There were no pollen scattered all over creation showing a strange orange-green glow. Maybe it was an radioactive pollen. Mother Nature huff and puffed and scattered the pollen all over for life to continue its sequence, but where the some of the pollen were program to land, planned millions years ago, there are parking lots and buildings. What now? Do the master planers go back and reprogram the pollen flow?

Yesterday was nice too. I went for a bike ride.

This morning I went for a walk and a run. My cardiologist told me I need to exercise strenuous enough to get my pulse between about 100 and 128 and keep it in that range for 30 minutes. So, that is what I do. I walk for about 30 minutes and run for 30 minutes.

If you could see me run, when I say “run” you might have to look the other way or scratch your nose or excuse yourself and leave quickly to cover up your smirk. Some people walk faster than I run.

I sort of sludge alone. My sludgging does the trick. I kept my heart rate up between 110 and 120 and worked up a good sweat.

Before I took off into my run about 2 blocks away a fire truck was by a fireplug and two firemen had a fireplug unplugged and water was come out at great force, disrupting a man’s yard work, sending loose debris into the gully by the street, then flowing on away.

A neighbor friend Omar was watching them. He told me there was a water main broken one block up the other way. He noticed it at 5am and called the water department. It was then 8:00 and no one from the water department has shown up yet. I don’t know how the fire department got involved in this.

One of the firemen said he was going home and water his yard and the water department better not say anything.

We are in a draught condition and there is a partial band on watering lawns. If your house had a odd number you can water certain days, and even number, the other days. The water department is authorized to issue citations for people who abuse the rules.

A few more blocks up and out of a subdivision and onto the main road that has a sidewalk I started running. On the sidewalk I plowed right through a sprinkler system and got wet – not too wet. A new two-building office park has a little bit of a lawn and they were watering it and the water was overlapping the edge of the newly planted grass and onto the pavement. They should be fine for watering the pavement!

Also it is an even day and they have an odd number, but I think with newly planted grass the rules are that rules don’t apply to you, and even if they did, being a business, of course the rules don’t apply to you.

I ran on up the street a half mile of or so and cut through a Baptist church parking lot. I noticed the handicapped spaces were the closet to the entrance doors. The next best parking places were the visitors. About 5 or 6 places were marked off for The Visitors. “Well, how nice” I thought, they give the visitors a red carpet treatment.

Wait! That is not it at all. That way, they can see what can of car they drive. If they come in a old heap with stickers all over it and a donut tire you can bet they won’t have anybody from church paying them a visit…… however, if they have a new shiny hog, the preacher himself might pay them a visit.

It was a good morning to exercise.

Income Tax Day

This morning I walked to the Post Office that has my PO box to get my mail, which is 1.25 miles or six Cobb County blocks away.

I thought instead of exercising today, it is such a beautiful day a walk would be nice, but the main reason is that I did not want to fool with the parking situation with the procrastinators on the final day the income taxes are due this year.

Aren’t you glad you have the privilege to help finance the government operations for another year?

Within a week ago I heard that several airplane mishaps were blamed on overworked Air-Traffic Controllers. They said they were working long hours, sometimes taking off only 8 hours before starting back, they were near exhaustion. With a tight budget the bosses after to have the controllers burn the candle at both ends, and well, you get plane wrecks. That what happens when you cut expense across the board without looking at the details.
And, if they had more tax dollars to run things, then more people would be alive to pay more taxes, so it is a win win situation.

I told my elderly neighbor lady I was going to walk to get the mail and she told me to be careful and not let any Mexicans run over me. I asked her was it okay to let a Caucasian run over me?

The walk was nice and with a pleasant breeze was puffing easily by.

In the post office lobby where the mailboxes are located an ex-coworker, Joanie had a chair and table to greet customers and maybe eliminate standing in line, thus no long line. If they just needed their tax envelopes stamped with today’s date, she could help them with that… if they wanted forms, she could swivel around and reach for the well sorted out forms, swivel again with the forms and hand them to them. If they wanted to know the latest post office gossip or the local north east Cobb gossip she could tell them that too, which that was the reason I stood in her short line, to hear the latest inside news.

By craft Joanie is a rural route carrier. She hurt her back a few years ago and is on the light duty list. She mostly answers the telephone, other than today. One time when Joanie was a carrier she reached into a mailbox because the flag was up and found herself holding a pipe bomb. I think she just about had a hissy-fit, but she did what she was suppose to do, get the hell a safe distance away and call the law. And of course the law called the media and it was on the news.

Joanie has a laid back attitude that she appears that nothing upsets her (except pipe bombs). As she sit at that table today in her slow laid back, slow southern drawl away, I think some of the young aggressive east Cobb yuppies will think “typical Postal employee!” They won’t know about her one time looking at pipe bomb she one time picked up or hurting her back lifting too much weight, and most of all, she probably could buy and sell them if she wanted. She inherited a huge section of land from her grandfather and sold it to a developer that developed a mall complex.

There wasn’t as much people are cars as I thought would be. I think many people thought Friday or Saturday would be the last day they could mail their taxes and not know about the April the 17th extension.

It was a nice walk anyway.

Walking & Running and a Sad Reminder

This morning was very a very pleasant 44º. It was nice enough to walk and run outside. My MP3 player featured Aretha Franklin this morning. As I ran and dogs barked I imagined they were the chorus and at times I would shake my finger at them and ran backwards pantomiming Aretha (only in my mind, of course).

I strayed off to an adjoining neighborhood. One house I went by reminded me who used to live there but I think they moved. It was a family of four: a man, wife, a daughter, and a son. They were all black headed and olive skin. For some reason I think they were probably Syrian.

I used to see them at Krogers over the years. They all four went shopping. The mother was the shopper of the family to get most value for the money. The father was very gentle and easy going with his children. The little boy at first was just a toddler who I watched over the years get bigger and bigger. He seemed to always stay close to his parents. The daughter looked to be about 8 or 9 and over the years became 13 or 14. There was something wrong about with the girl. I don’t know what, but I think it was a deathly illness. Through the years she seemed to grow sicker and sicker. One time she wore a patch on one eye. Another time she was limping. And they limp became more pronounced as if she had a prosthetic leg. Then she did not accompany them at all. Sad.

A Run In The Neighborhood

Yesterday was a pleasant day. I like to have a good sweat-breaking walk on the treadmill before daylight. But, being lazy, I procrastinated and procrastinated and just didn’t get around to it. Later, I was cooking lunch out on the grill and realized it was a beautiful day outside. After we ate I decided to go for a run.

Besides, I have copied some old LP albums and some were on my little MP3 player and that is the only time I get to listen to it is when I exercise outside – so, I decided to kill two birds with one stone.

I ran up and down the streets of subdivision to beat of The Beatles and Al Hirt’s Dixieland stuff. Not only did I enjoy the music but I think some dogs in the neighborhood also commented about my music – a few tried to harmonize by howling – I think their sensitive ears can pick up what is coming out my earphones.

I noticed it was a good day for realtors to show houses. Three houses for sale in the neighborhood has company, each had two additional cars in the their driveways, or on the street – one for the potential buyer and one for the sales person. I hope they had luck in selling. Soon grass will be growing and somebody needs to cut the grass.

A I was running and two people ahead of me were walking their dogs. One was a tall teenager I have seen waiting on the bus stop in the mornings and the other was a lady by the name of Anne in her late ‘60s.

The teenager had two big dogs, each wanting to go in opposite directions and Anne had a perk little baby poodle which looked like a contrast of the two bigger dogs.

Which reminds me – the other day, while driving out, at the end of our street and the entrance of the new McMansions newly built, I saw a huge black man in a dark blue running suit. He was maybe 6’5” or more, and he had a little white toy poodle. Speaking of contrasts! I reminded myself again it is important to always have my camera with me.

Back to being behind Anne and the teenager and their dogs: A car came along and got behind them. The two humans and the 3 dogs hogged the whole street. The car couldn’t pass them. They were so self-centered they were not aware of the car that had to stop. behind them or me. Whenever I exercise on the street I try to keep an awareness of all around me – I don’t want to be dog bit or ran over. But they didn’t seem to think of that. They just kept talking and walking slowly.

I didn’t let it interfere with my mission. I simply ran pass them by running through a yard. When I got to the next street corner before I turned in I saw they were still blabbing and the car was slowly creeping behind them.

I ran down a couple more streets and then back towards our house. By then Anne and her dog in her driveway. She waved and my heart rate was up to its maximum anyway, so needed a rest, so I stopped and spoke to her. She asked how was my health, she hadn’t talked to me in a while. I told her about my heart attack and my stroke (which I already told her one day at Wal-mart). She seemed surprised and concerned and told me about her opened heart surgery. Which she already told me one day at Wal-Mart, but of course she didn’t remember telling me that – but to be nice I acted like it was news… and I will the next time she tells me too.

Then she said the reason she asked me about my health is that she is talking a wonderful pill that cleanses every cell in your body and it has done wonders for her. I think she was trying to hawk some kind of Amway product or something on me… and it probably works on the pyramid scheme plan.

I told her I took too much prescribed medicine already and bent over and petted the poodle and asked questions about it.

As I ran off I said of course she didn’t remember me telling her of my heart attack and stroke because I am invisible. And of course she didn’t remember telling me of her opened heart surgery, because how can you tell empty air something?

But wait! Didn’t I act surprised also when she told me about her’s? Yes I did, the same as she did. So, maybe she went into her house muttering something about me not remembering we went through all this before….. now, who thinks they are invisible?