Sweet Serenity Alongside the Road

     When I was a senior in high school I got this screw ball notion that I had to have a letters man jacket.   Never having been the athletic type,  that left me in a real dilemma since only athletes ever acquired this coveted item.  Since I was about the farthest thing from the athletic type as you could get, there really weren’t to many sports that I could even attempt without making a complete a$$ of myself.  Some how I managed to keep up with the girls cross country team and earned a jacket that still hangs in my closet to this day.  Even though I came in last place in every race, I was proud that I finished.
 
      Every day the team was required to run 6-8 miles for practice.  I often found myself left behind by the pack.  One other girl was in the same boat as I was, and we struggled along together.  Along  quiet winding roads we raced with the air peppered only with the sounds of our feet pounding the pavement and our labored breathing breaking up the serenity of the landscape.  

      One time while running we came across a group of cyclists racing along the same road.  They were outfitted in professional gear and quickly sped past us as we made our way back to the school.  I remember wishing I was on one of the fast moving bicycles with the air blowing in my face  instead of running along on my own power sweating like a stuck pig.   I also remember jumping off the road into the ditch, so sure I was that they would hit me as they passed.  I discovered in those moments how truly fast I could run and how drenched a person could become from traffic splashing mud on you as they sped past.  

          Still even the best memories were soon ruined with the reality of the situation.  On one such occasion, I arrived back at the school resembling a drowned rat with mud splashed high up on my legs.  The over exertion must have affected my brain, because instead of stopping in the locker room to dry off and clean up like a normal person, I burst into the gym looking like I was from outer space to the amusement of the volleyball team who barely looked like they ever broke a sweat or had a hair out of place.  Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat to the locker room to the sound of laughter and the irritating snickers of everyone in the gym. 

        Instead of reveling in my attempts at fitness, I often found myself wondering about the possibility that I would die along side the very road I was running on in a big sweaty heap.  I had learned my lesson well, and the moment of insanity for glory  passed as soon as I had my letter men jacket in my hot little hands.  Looking back on the whole thing now, I wonder why I thought a letters man jacket was so important.  In hindsight, if I would have continued to run,  the middle aged spread might not have taken it’s toil quite so viciously.  Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.