ecclesiastes three

Saturday's mileage: 14.5

on the iPod: "route" -- son volt

The marathon is two weeks away. Everything that i've trained for is on the near horizon and I think i'm ready. I've started a packing list, made some dinner reservations, gone online to check out the official Nike gear, read the participant guide cover-to-cover, made a new playlist for my iPod. All that's left is to lace up and run. With Mrs. Pugh out of town for a high school reunion, Mrs. Murie and I got in the final long run of the training plan.

The weather was nice again, it must have been in the fifties when we started at 6:30. Going from Starbucks, we headed toward downtown at a blistering pace. This always seems to happen when I run solo with Mrs. Murie. She's the real deal when it comes to speed. It used to wear me out to keep up with her, but I held my own for the first six miles. I actually liked it.

Taking the trail all the way to the edge of campus, we got to run the newest portion that connects to Dickson Street. I've watched the construction for the last month or so and have been awed by the really steep incline. There are tons of hills in Fayetteville, alot of them we've run. But nothing like this beast. Luckily we went down it, as opposed to up it, on our way to the Farmer's Market.

The Fayetteville Farmer's Market is primo. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday morning from April to October, the downtown square plays host to local growers, musicians, families, dogs, hippies, politicians, students, and this dude who juggles fire. True story. The whole environment comes together to create a really good way to spend a morning. The focus is on the produce, but it's so much more than that. It's clearly the funky side of Fayetteville.

We walked briefly around the market and then picked up the pace, though not as swift, as we continued on toward the University, taking another portion of the trail system to get there. The morning was still young, with mist in the crisp, cool air. I could feel it on my face. There's a calm on these early morning fall runs that permeates my lungs, moving through my body and making everything seem to be in it's rightful place in the world. I love this feeling. I was fully immersed in the calm when we first spotted him.

Laying on a bench about 20 yards ahead of us on the trail was a man. He looked like he was asleep, maybe passed out. His face was covered by the hood on his tattered, dirty sweatshirt. His clothes were layered and stained. A cigarette lighter layed in a puddle of water on the ground. I immediately assumed he was homeless. In an instant, my gut tightened as thoughts and emotions rushed through my head: I felt guilt, compassion, sadness, anger, curiosity, fear, and uneasiness all at the same time. As we ran closer Mrs. Murie and I looked at each other and, without saying anything, both acknowledged what we were seeing and that it was upsetting. Homeless people sleeping on benches happens in Chicago and New York City. Not Fayetteville. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept running toward him. It all happened within about five seconds.

As we were running directly next to him, everything changed in an instant. We realized his pants were down. We saw it all. The Full Monty. I'm not for sure which of us started sprinting first, but I do know that we got some really good practice for the final tenth of a mile in the marathon!

Begging and praying to never have to see a naked, passed out homeless person ever again, we ran past Fayetteville High School on our way to Razorback Stadium. The Alabama Crimson Tide, those mean and nasty cheaters, were in town for a football game with my beloved Arkansas Razorbacks later on that afternoon. We ran along Stadium Drive, which had been transformed into a line of students waiting to get in for the game. Affectionately dubbed "Woo Pig City", the local news station reported about 375 tents had been erected as early as Tuesday. Several of my former students were in line and yelled out as we ran by. The atmosphere was electric with early-morning tailgaters eager for college football. The SEC is the best conference in the nation. Woo Pig Sssoooiiieee!!!

The run back was fairly uneventful, I slowed the pace a bit but still kept a good clip going. I began to realize just exactly how close the marathon is and found myself feeling waves of emotion associated with the finish of what has truly become a monumental event in my life. I don't know how i'll feel in those last few miles, but i'm scared of how I might feel. Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time and a season for every single thing under heaven. I suppose there's a time to cross the finish line and be okay with knowing that the hard work has paid off and there's nothing left to run. But that comfort won't last long, as i'll need another starting line for which to prepare. It's become part of me to run. Where will the next one be?