The Hills Have Eyes – a Friday anecdote

So I do my hill repeats on this street which has a nice wide sidewalk. It happens to be next to a cemetery, and that irony is not lost on me.  Anyway, I run up the hill hard, and walk down it, recover, run up again…way too many times. The other night, I’m at the bottom and I see this kind of disheveled looking guy on the the other side of the street at the top of the hill coming down, sort of swaying, while holding a 24 pack of Natty Light. I shrug and hope he doesn’t steal my Gatorade and start running up the hill. I notice him cross to my side of the street in my peripheral vision. I get to the top of the hill, panting, turn around and he’s GONE. Now if you had seen him walking–he was slow and not too steady on his pins– you’d understand my dismay. Where the hell was he? I was totally freaked out. Then I see his case of Natty Light next to a tree, which is next to the sidewalk, but no guy. A zillion things run through my head and I’m pondering at least crossing the street, but then I saw he had plopped down on the grass, pulled out a smoke, opened a beer….all he needed was a foam finger. I hope he enjoyed spectating. I think I need to find a new hill.


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A blog about my life and other stuff.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.

Dorothy Parker, Not So Deep as a Well (1937)


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