Sunday, Meditation

Today, the Matron finally felt back on her feet -- and back to the blog.  

Priorities, ordered:  family, job, grant application, book.   If a task at hand doesn't fit into one of those categories, she's tossing it out.   A few old commitments will tag along into this new focus, but anything new? Not happening.  

Because . . . yours truly began that book, the long awaited 'third time's the charm' pile of paper.    Wish her well:  it's a memoir.    High end personal dish, she hopes.   Every single life is a story, from the first breath to last.   She's just penning hers.  

She took that life outside today, on a spectacular Minnesota afternoon.   If the word "Minnesota" elicits pollen or polar warnings, that's actually true.  But about three weeks a year, the weather is perfect!  

What a day for a run!    As of late, the Matron has felt more kinship with exercise.   Yes, she's pounded the pavement, done a mean downward dog, swam laps and spun the elliptical, but mostly it felt like duty.   Now, she's quite fond of those runs -- fond enough that some sort of actual sign-me-up real race might be in her future.  In that spirit, she decided to time her run.   She doesn't wear a watch while running so she checked the kitchen clock and sprinted out the door.  Four miles would be behind her in no time!

Eight blocks in, much to her complete delight, she saw a neighbor who is also an old friend from another era.  They hadn't really talked in at least year!  So when the Matron saw Trudy trundling through her yard, she did what you would do:  she stopped for a conversation.

Back on the road, the intrepid running calculated that lost time -- seven minutes.    She did her mental mechanics and got back on the timing track . . . . . for about another mile.  When she had to pee.

Now the call of the bladder is the Matron's most constant companion on her runs.  She is forever in debt to the Parks and Rec workers who unlock certain bathroom doors at 6 am, without fail.   The Matron knows exactly how much time it takes her to walk into the park building and pee (in the right place, people).  Three minutes.

Foiled again!    Inside the public bathroom was a very young mother with a toddler and an infant.   It appeared that everybody was crying . . . the baby was screaming, the little girl wailing and the poor mom?  Just about ready to burst.  The Matron hadn't seen anyone waiting for these folks outside so she wondered if the mom -- a teen, really -- was on her own.

You guessed it.  The young mama handed the Matron a bottle so she could hold (and pacify) the little guy while the mama took the toddler to the potty.  Everybody did their business, including the Matron eventually, she handed the baby back and went on her way.

She had no idea how to time that one.

Still -- there was a sense of schedule!   There was the home stretch, unfolding in front of her!   This is the prettiest part of the run, right along a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.  The view is spectacular!

Which is precisely why the young lovers holding hands and kissing, STOPPED the Matron -- very, very nicely and apologetically --and asked if she would take their picture against the stunning city and river backdrop.    They were all dressed up:  suit, skirt, heels and tie.  And super happy.

Here, the Matron gave up.  She tossed aside that schedule and intention, and took a whole bunch of (she hopes) not too fuzzy photos!    It turns out that yours truly has a keen photographic eye, as she even did some arranging:  you, here.  No, turn that way.   It was wonderful.

Just to make the whole thing perfect, as she was running home she decided to stop by and introduce herself to a new neighbor, check on her dear friend Ann, and pop into Stephanie's house up the street.  All in all that hard-core, timed kick-ass run?

Not as important as all those people who got in her way.