Weirdos

My version of a Tuesday tempo run: jog up to the reservoir, run two ten minute mile laps, and jog randomly around the bottom area of the park until I hit five miles. It's all very scientific.

As I ran southward down the hill on the east side, I passed the same mountain lion sculpture I see most days during the week. Only, today I saw an old man descending from it. His hand grazed the snout, and then his own forehead, and then--  the man proceeded to cross himself. According to a quickie search, there's no intended religious significance to this sculpture. Still Hunt, as it's called, just "continues to inspire awe in weary and unsuspecting joggers as they arrive at the crest of Cedar Hill." Uh hu... apparently.

Coming in second, a sixty-something woman in a velour white sweat suit and pigtails ringed in gold scrunchies speedwalked while reading a full-sized open newspaper as joggers swerved around her.

Some days I like my running getup. Some days, with my hair poofing out of the top of my stylish visor, nose running in the damp cold, crud in my eyes, and socks at the bottom of the drawer that hit at that unflattering spot just above the ankle, I feel very uncute. It's comforting to think that among this crowd, I don't approach the competition.