tents and traffic controls.
I haven't written here for two days. Did anyone out there wonder if the blog title was no longer true? You never know. But, no, I'm here. Not dead, FYI.
I'm a diligent writer in my personal journal. Every. Damn. Day. When I first started this, I wondered if I would make the same level of effort to put something—anything—on the page, day after day. It only took four days to find out the answer to that question. Ah well!
This one will be a bit of a quick one (I hope). I didn't think anything today was even worthy of being written about, but I feel like it's already becoming too easy to say that every day, and from there it's a slippery slope to totally abandoning this project.
(Since you're now reading below the fold, rest assured, I probably will be abandoning this project sooner rather than later, like everything else I start. But c'mon, I've gotta make it at least, like, a week, right?)
Tonight, as we walked in the park, there were a lot of signs up announcing various traffic control measures for the nearby roads this Saturday. Likewise, when we got to the top of the hill, by the running track, the area looked quite different. A great deal of canopy tents were set up, flanked by electrical generators, a big stage, and more signage. All evidence of something going on this weekend. Some sort of anti-smoking fun run, apparently.
It's rather amazing to see how quickly everything appeared. I took the old scooter out this morning to run some errands. The weather was nice, and it's always fun to putz around with the vehicle that was once my primary means of transportation, but now feels like a go-kart.
One reason I occasionally fire up the old scooter is to make sure everything's still working and to keep the battery charged. Thus I usually take the scenic route, as driving directly to my destination today would have taken fewer than five minutes. Better to give the scooter some time to stretch its legs, so to speak.
So I drove the old Yamaha around the park to add some time and distance. Just a little fossil fuel burned for no purpose at all, I'm doing my part as a citizen of planet Earth. We can all produce a little greenhouse gas emissions as a treat, right?
There was no evidence of any of this fun run stuff at all as I scooted by in the morning. Less than twelve hours later, the place is transformed. Amazing efficiency, in service of what I'm not quite sure, but there it is nonetheless.
Events at the park used to be such a source of anxiety for me. I wondered how it would affect our walks. How busy would the place get? Would we have access to certain facilities? Etc.
I realized tonight that now, it no longer really matters at all. It's entirely possible that this fun run on Saturday will pass me by and if they're as efficient at breaking it down as they were at setting it up, it'll be gone before the nightly walk's time comes.
This made me feel surprisingly emotional. I know it's stupid. Having fewer sources of anxiety should be one of the upshots I can take from this whole situation. But it's just a reminder. That the walks no longer really mean anything. Not in the same way they did before. We depended on them, and therefore I had to contend with things like fun runs. No other choice.
Small things like these are the things that continue to surprise me. Things I never thought I'd be sad about in a million years. They make me wonder if I'll ever stop feeling down about unexpected, random events that remind me of your absence. I know there's light at the end of the tunnel, surely, but sometimes it's still hard to see.
Hopefully, this entry will be the last time I ever have to type the phrase “fun run.” I believe I've hit my lifetime quota. Not dead, FYI.