Happy 4th of July

It's the 4th of July.

But it's also Saturday.

That means it is my long run day. Six miles.

Six miles.

I am nervous about six miles. It seems to far. And truth be told, the last time I did six miles was as far as I ran before I had to drop out. I tried running seven once. Once. It didn't work out so well.

My route has been mapped. Ironically, my route ends right at a house Jamie and I were interested in buying. Unfortunately, we are unable to make any sort of financial move like that right now.

I see that as a good sign - ending at the house, not that we have no money. I am always looking for signs.

The course is also relatively flat.

I want to get an early start so that I am finished and can either sit and relax for the day or curl up and die.

There is not a soul out this morning. The roads are completely empty. I dismiss with running on the sidewalk and run right on the street. I am practically running in the center of my running lane. I feel free! Unhindered in any way.

And my run is spectacular. Yes, I do have to invoke my mantra for the last mile (you can do anything for a mile), but just the last mile. The other five seem to come easily. I am getting the hang of this running thing.

Running this early, I feel unobserved. I don't feel the least bit bothered by staring a bit too long at someone's front garden or other landscaping or other home related coolness.

I also observe my surroundings a bit more closely. When the only sound you hear is the sound of your Shuffle, you turn it down a bit to listen to the world around you. It sounds impossible, but it isn't. Try it on your own Saturday morning when you are running in near seclusion.

I also love my town. A man rides by me on his bike. He seems to want to take advantage of the early morning also.

He is riding a bike that has an attachment in the back for a child rider. I am sure it has a name. Perhaps if I had children, I would know the name. Hell, if I had children, I would probably own one. Let's just call it a tot attachment. It is obviously for a child to pedal along with mom or dad.

The reason I mention it and describe it is because it seemed to be missing its rider. As a self-proclaimed smart ass, part of me wanted to yell, "dude, I think you lost something," or "dude, you better backtrack to get your child." I didn't and thank God because those comments aren't the least bit clever. Honestly, I didn't want to hear my own voice. Or any voice.

He rode in silence and I ran in silence.

I also passed the usual suspects. There is a woman I find inspirational. I know not one damn thing about her other than that she exercises every day. She is also older. If I had to guess I would say she is at least 65 or 70. If she isn't power walking (and doing it faster than I run, I should add), she is cycling. She usually cycles with another woman - a daughter, friend, I have no idea. We always say hello, smile, wave.

It doesn't matter that there is solitude. It doesn't matter that I didn't want to yell at the lone biker. I have to say hello to them. And I said hello and "happy 4th."

Because that's what country folk do on a Saturday morning.

On my run back to the house, the man with the tot attachment passed again. He was still missing his rider.

And I suspect that no matter how much he loves said rider, he was blessing the solitude too.