Too much time on my hands, eh? Or Old Whig at the Rendezvous

[I felt the need to phrase that like the old Bullwinkle cartoons.]

Thursday

We spent the entire friggin' day watchin' the old shrew get her &@*# together. Then I threw it all into the pickup in 15 minutes and we left the house at 5:00.

But! She wanted to run a few errands before we left town.

Yeah!

We left the cities at 7:00. You know when the sun sets this time of year.

8:45 PM: we arrive at Snake River Fort, near Pine City. Miles to go before we sleep. (Thank The Dear Lord our errands were in the northern suburbs.)

9:45: the tent is ready and we can put the kids to bed. Laurie and I get to relax and BS with our buddies by their campfire. Insanity and anger subside like a spent wave leaving only the pleasures of fine conversation and magnificent weather.

Friday... I'm sorry, it was just a blur of pleasure. I ran for an hour in the morning. Viewed a lot of magnificent autumn farmland and forest, lakes and rivers - played with several paces. Recovered quickly and was able to haul a lot of water and firewood.

I know I spent a lot of time tending the fire and gathering the spirit of the voyageur. We had a few visitors, the girls made friends and everything was just generally wonderful.

It rained a lot that night. Storms threatened, but didn't materialize.

Saturday

I overslept, so I couldn't run (visitor hours started at 9:00, I rolled out at 8:45. I (after taking my BP medication and vitamins) moseyed to the truck for some dry firewood and got a blaze going for a late breakfast. Which I got wolfed down five minutes before the foot-races began at ten. To spare you the agony, nobody entered who wasn't a better sprinter than I. I came in dead-frickin' last. Three grade-school kids whupped my ass!

(Let's see how that translates to a 10K, eh?)

Then, later, I stupidly repeated my failing shotput technique in the Stone Throw. I placed fifth overall, but they only give prizes for places 1-3. The two-handed, underhand throw has won it for the last two years and I've never been beaten by anyone who [correction: didn't throw] that way. (Of course, I get to claim the all-time championship of the shot-put style. Anybody seen that trophy? I guess it's my powder horn.)

But, you know what? That race speed carried over to the next day. I did a 90 minute run. I wasn't worried about the distance at the time, and I was feeling humbled by the thorough drubbing on Saturday, but on the way home I drove the truck to the landmarks I ran to and discovered that I had run at least 10.5 miles that morning. In an hour and a half! That is a huge, HUGE leap in my ability!

Talk about a confidence builder!

And I feel better than than I've felt in years at this moment!

Two weeks ago I was telling my in-laws that jogging is bad for you and that I'd never run more than three miles a day after this marathon. Now I knock off more than a 10K a day and enjoy every minute of it!

Karnazes: "If it felt good, you did something wrong"? I don't know, man. I'm having a good time.

But I have a somber point.

Saturday night, after the dance we had a hell of a thunderstorm. Tornado watches and everything.

There were no problems up our way, other than spray driven through every nook and cranny we didn't seal...

But a tornado formed and struck in Rogers, in western Hennepin County (my home county) so suddenly that homes were flattened and a little girl - only months older than my Rosie - was crushed to death before the alarms could sound.

Generally, I consider grief counselors to be a flock of twisted vultures... I can see visiting one now, if I'd known the girl.

I'm damn near ready to see one myself.