Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

It was a beautiful Sunday.  A Sunday that I didn’t actually have to work.  I did everything you should be able to do on a Sunday, things I’ve missed out on for a long time now.  I got up early and went to church.  I spent some quality time on the couch.  I watched the NASCAR race and a couple of movies.  I made a nice dinner.  Yes, it was good to feel like a normal person living a normal Sunday.

I think I may have taken things just one step too far though.  After my chicken experiment, which I had for dinner, I got the bright idea that I should take advantage of a calm Sunday evening to go for a jog.  I do work out, but I don’t jog much.  I now understand why.

The skies were dimming, the air was crisp.  The sun was beginning to fade behind the horizon, and it seemed as though nature itself was calling to me.  The problem, so I discovered after the fact, is that nature and I don’t seem to speak the same language.  You see, I thought the call said, “come jog and spend time in my beauty.”  What it really said, or so it seems, was “I dare you… I bet you die.”

I live right across the street from the river, and along the river there is a nice path for walking, jogging or riding.  I walk it frequently when the weather is nice.  It’s a lovely place for a stroll.  Many agree.  You see others jogging, each step seeming to move with the rhythm of the music coming from their iPod’s.  There always seems to be a couple out for peaceful romantic walk, hand in hand, with the soothing lull of a gracefully flowing river and whisper of a gentle breeze caressing the trees as their background.  Then there are the Canadian Geese who are often much less poetic.  Mostly they honk, charge, and crap.  It kind of ruins the picture doesn’t it?  But hey, we put them on our currency, so that has to count for something

Yes, it seemed a perfect evening for a jog along the river.  I brought along my iPod, but quickly learned that with each step forward my ear buds were just going to keep falling out.  After giving up I followed a different rhythm.  That of my heart, as it pounded, perhaps even visibly, out of my chest.  There was a coolness in the air, but it was crisp and refreshing.  After getting started I had no concern of being cold.  The burning sensation that quickly began to stir in my legs was more than enough to keep my body warm.  Though leaving the house without water, it became evident early on that I needn’t fear dehydration either, as I was confident after a very short distance that at any moment I would begin coughing up blood.

I am resilient, or so I like to think, so I wasn’t prepared to stop.  I had a destination in mind and I was convinced I was going to make it.  After all, 500ft isn’t really that far.  I recall passing one couple on my journey.  They were in each others arms, leaning against a fence with the perfect back drop of a setting sun reflecting off the river behind them.  Rays of light beamed through the trees, bathing them in it’s glow.  It like It looked like something straight from an artists canvas.  God’s I suppose.  I certainly didn’t mean to interrupt their tender moment, I’m pretty sure the gentleman was going in for the kiss.  Such a priceless and tender moment, however, loses something when a man comes trouncing by with the heaviness of an elephant, breathing with a force equivalent of an F5 tornado.  I hope I didn’t cost him his kiss.

When I finally reached my destination it seemed a crowd had gathered.  While I suspect this had more to do with coincidence than it did with people standing by waiting to administer CPR, I felt compelled, mostly by pride, to put on a show.  I’ve often said it’s not as much about how well you know what you’re doing as it is about how well you can fake it.  I had every intention, and desire at this point, of collapsing to my death.  Anything to stop the pain.  I couldn’t bring myself to do it in front of all these people though.  The story, as I will tell it from this day forth is… my shoes were untied.  I needed to get on the ground to tie my shoes.  After all, I can’t be taking the risk of tripping and breaking a bone now can I?

I’m back home now.  I can’t recall specifically how I got here.  I think my heavy breathing robbed a certain amount of oxygen from getting to my brain, so there seems to be some blank spots in my memory.  I do know that I started to write a will though.  I remember telling one special person they could have my Macbook – the very instrument I use to write these notes to you.  The rest of it is a blur.

I’m going back to the couch now.  I don’t know if I’ll ever get off it again.  If not as a result of death, then most likely as a result of my legs currently having the consistency of jello!  It truly was a beautiful Sunday.  I can’t wait to have another one next weekend.