Running With The Turkeys
The Source
My buddy Jay likes to run. I don’t mean walk or jog or trot. I mean run. To me this is like saying you enjoy root canals. Of course Jay was a record-setting running footballer in both high school and college so maybe he associates running with survival. I’ll admit that although Angus bulls have chased me I’ve never tried to elude a defensive tackle. Four years ago Jay got the crazy idea that other people might like to run as much as he does so he organized a Turkey Trot around Arenzville. It’s a 5K run and although I don’t have a clue how long that is, I know it’s far too far for me to be running. Anything over two blocks is 5K in my book. The race starts a mere 2 ½ blocks from my own house. I drive down. Jay asked my advice on promoting the annual Thanksgiving morning event so I gladly volunteered to be in charge of “Annual 5K or less Arenzville Turkey Meander.” It was clear to me that although he was in charge of the runners and others would herd the walkers into their proper position, there was absolutely no one to host the meandering crowd. Having majored in Meandering in college I was the perfect choice. The delineation is clear when the folks start getting out of their cars on the morning of the event. You can tell the runners from the walkers from the meanders at a glance. Runners dress for the occasion in Spandex, running gloves and woolly hats. Walkers don a coat and a comfortable pair of shoes. We meanderers wear whatever we put on that morning. I can meander a 5K in houseslippers…blindfolded…while sleeping. Runners run a prescribed route. Walkers follow that route but often get lost. Meanderers cheat and cut across lawns, parks, sidewalks, gardens, and anything else that might shave a few steps off the walk without making it look like we started a day later than everyone else. Runners train for the event by running 5K on the three days prior to Thanksgiving. They eat whole grains and devour Power Drinks before the run. Walkers are careful not to eat too large a breakfast. Meanderers drink too much coffee that morning and stop to pee frequently at whatever Arenzville house (or rosebush) happens to be open. Runners have their own vocabulary and bandy about such phrases as “muscle tone, stamina, and proper chemical balance.” Walkers say things like, “I feel my thighs warming up,” “You know, this feels pretty good,” and “Nice day for a walk.” Meanderers mumble “Do they have Hot Toddies at the end of the race?” Runners don’t talk much while cruising the course. They’re busy counting their breaths and monitoring their heart rates. Walkers talk as much as their breath will allow. Meanderers will stop and talk to anyone who happens to be on the street…any excuse to stop walking, then look for another lawn to cut across and another place to tinkle. The typical 5K runner doesn’t know for sure how many people are in the race since he is so far out ahead that he doesn’t see the others. The walker knows exactly since most runners lap him and he can count. The meanderer assumes it’s a race of over 400 since he’s lapped several times. Runners are in a high state of focus while racing. They think about pace, about rhythm, about thinking themselves through the obstacles of pain and weariness. Walkers think about the lovely leaves strewn along the Arenzville path, which houses need a coat of paint, how lovely a small town can look on a November morning. Meanderers think about their last will and testament. They calculate the chances of making it through the “race” alive. Their lives pass before their very eyes…slowly. The runner follows careful procedure to cool down at the end of race, slowing first to a jog then a run to allow his muscles to…I don’t know...whatever muscles do. A walker drinks hot chocolate at the end of stroll and the meanderer collapses onto something soft. This single hour is the longest he’s been on his feet all week. Please meander on out to the Turkey Trot this year. I’ll be at the end of the flock…the ones cutting across the yard.