As a sign of the apocalyptic nature of “These Unprecedented Times,” I have taken to running after work as a way to make my feet as tired as my brain. Even I have to step out from behind computer screens once in a while. And I enjoy exploring the “real” side of places I visit. So I’ve been running the neighborhood.
Google Maps, which I always take with a grain of salt, promised me that I could make a big loop because one road links up with another at the back edge of two adjacent neighborhoods.
That ain’t a road, in my humble opinion, but I sure almost slipped down the slimy concrete trying to make sure. It goes through a ravine and up to a house that seemed keen on maintaining their privacy.
I aim to please.
I turned around and went back the way I came. Then I started to hear shouting up ahead. A dispute between across-the-street neighbors yelling about each other sabotaging their respective dilapidated trailers. I passed between them looking directly at my feet with my music paused, hoping to draw as little attention as possible. One of them seemed like he was trying to rope me into the shouting match to take his side, but I decided I couldn’t hear.
On the last stretch, I got chased by a yappy chihuahua mix until a posse of guys with beards longer than my covid-hair looked up from trying to repair their car and chased the dog back to the little old lady on the corner who was trying to call it home.
Maybe I should stick to rock climbing; it’s safer.