Running Mild on an equally gorgeous day in Illinois
It’s Friday. If you read my post from Thursday, you’ll remember that I was running wild yesterday. Today, not so much. My playlist:
is awesome. But not enough. The forces of feminine nature are working against me today, and there is no remedy beyond time.
I was stiff and tired and felt heavy and broke down. I trudged along though because of the shining beacon of waxy hope I set up for myself and you, faithful readers: the quest for the crayons!
I started to lose faith somewhere between the 1¾ and 2 mile mark, when suddenly…there it was! The first crayon. A Red one! Non-crayola.
Was I crazy? Was I delusional in the heat yesterday? One stinking red crayon?!? I swear there were 8 or 10 or 12!!
Two miles in, I rationalized that the storm had driven them off the trail and into the side grass and weeds and that was it. Gone forever.
And then, looking like a sign from a bright sun god: Orange and Yellow!
A little further: Blue and Blue and Green. Then Brown all alone. Right in the middle of the path.
Then nothing for a little while. I figured that was it because I couldn’t remember how far along I had seen these crayons.
Just before 2½ miles, I saw one come into my vision. White! (Can’t see the word in the actual color–sorry!) I don’t even remember seeing that one at all.
But, no black. I know I saw it. because I was thinking of the 8-box of Crayola’s and it was the only one missing. (Purple too, but that was obliterated; crushed to waxy shards on the cement, so, sadly, I left it there to die in the sun.)
Oh well. Let’s just finish this damn run so I can go home. I feel like a thousand pounds running in a tornado uphill carrying a backpack full of lead…you know, amusing myself with descriptions of my struggle to survive the wilderness and all that…
I can see the 3½ mark just up ahead. Get ready to kick it up and sprint that last tenth of a mile…here I go…STOP!
There it is!! The Black crayon! It’s only half but who cares?? I was so happy I stopped and picked it up and looked around and probably looked crazy. Crazy girl carrying a plastic sandwich bag filled with broken crayon pieces. I guess I need a hobby, but I’m telling you I felt good and happy, and I got out and exercised so it wasn’t all bad.
Thus concludes my colorful story. You never read such a gripping tale of lost dreams, vanquished hopes, joyful discoveries and ultimate gratification, in life and love and all its mysteries. Inspirational AND inspiring; via the humblest of all school supplies.
And you thought your kids crayons were just for coloring. Picture is below.
just shy of pretty 
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