I was heading home, the long way, trying to dial in the new pedometer. I know my route, runs a little over four miles, round trip, includes a dip in the creek, to cool off. Some of the trail passes right in front of the Stevie Ray Vaughn statue.
Memorial Day, there was some kind of “triathlon” event. It had occurred much earlier in the day but the trail was still fenced off in places. Down by the fountain, a rather trim and cut black man was stretching and doing lifts on the parallel bars. He and another guy were joking about the event.
“Yeah, then you bike something like 13 kilometers, then you run something like 13 kilometers, and then you swim,” he said, gesturing towards the river front.
“Man, I’d drown.”
A lady had been pacing me, from way back at the bridge, and she just looked at me funny, “I’d let him drown, good looking as he is, then save him so he could drown again, so I could save him again.”
All I could do was laugh.
Later in the evening, Bubba Sean popped by on his way someplace. He brought along two, mighty fine, mighty good, mighty stinky cigars. We sat on the patio and watched the light leak out of the sky, the fading sunlight disappearing behind the trees.
Excellent $2 cigars.
