View Workout (Matthew Simonson)

Return to Log

Yes, Talia, all the cool kids went to Green Acres

October 18, 2018 (Morning)

Exercise Type: Run

Comments:
...including Jacob Gaba, myself, and the legendary Ben Stern, GDS's greatest distance runner of all time. As for this Lowell/Green Acres/GDS/Williams/Independent Lake Camp alum, he set out this morning on a long journey before sunrise carrying a backpack with a laptop, dress shoes, towel notebook, and change of clothes. The morning early chilly but he didn't mind, and he made his way swiftly down down the road the curves along the hillside above Old Town, "up the side of the lower hill, and across the plateau” (Gunther, 2018 quoted in Murphy, 2018). The hill became steeper, turning what was supposed to be a 50-minute run into over an hour and a quarter. His load was heavy and his legs weary from the adventures of the previous days, but he soon found himself enchanted by the invisible sunrise, first foreshadowed by the glowing contrails overhead, followed by a brilliant glint of sunlight off a lone tin roof on the opposite hillside, and finally, the intense glow of a mighty sun half-risen but still hidden behind Trebevic peak, setting the sky ablaze. He played leapfrog with a school bus as it stopped to pickup kids, then passed him before stopping once more. Just as he reached the crest of the final hill, his goal down below within sight, three fearsome hounds stepped forth to bar his path. As he slowed to a halt pondering his next move, an elderly woman magically emerged from the brush wearing headscarf and peasant garb, curled over walking stick to such a degree he could not have guessed her true height. With a flurry of words he could not comprehend and a gestures with her walking stick which he could, she indicated that he should turn down path from whence she had come in order to avoid being torn limb from limb by the fearsome beasts. Yet as he set out down her trail, he soon became befuddled. The tall grass closed up around him and after a few paces he had lost the trail completely. It was as if the old woman had some Mosaic power to part the sea of weeds with her staff, only to have them close in again once she was through. Defeated, he started back toward to the road, at which point the ancient babushka turned toward the fearsome wolves (for they were almost certainly wolves by this time—direwolves, even) and spake unto them in a strange tongue. Immediately, the wolves set up off up the path, barking no less ferociously, but clearly in retreat. Again, the old lady uttered her incantation. Two of the were wolves took up a watch on the steps of a nearby house, but a third one still held its ground. Finally, as he cautiously approached, the demonic beasts growling incessantly, the old lady/babushka/Strega Nona called to them once more and the final holdout scampered out of his path. The runner tiptoed. He was almost past. The growls continued at a low rumble, erratically punctuated by vicious barks. Just when though he was safe, and started up again at a slow jog, he heard the jangle of metal collars and rustle of footsteps. He whirled to find the the wolves once again closing in. His fairy godmother had vanished!

[To be continued…]

Works Cited:
Murphy, Abigail. “Follow Your Weiner.” Running-log, Branton Beohm Press, 2018.