Tales of the Coronavirus (Continued)

It was another surreal day in this new era of Coronavirus.  We have learned that the Boston Marathon scheduled for April 20 - Patriots Day in Boston - has been postponed until September 14 for the first time in its 124-year history.  I was texting one of my running friends in Montgomery, Alabama, about the virus.  "What's the situation up there?" he asked, and I told him what was happening.  "At least we can go running, right?" I told him.  "Not in Italy," he said, and a little research confirmed that was the case; those found guilty of being outside face a three-month prison sentence or a fine of 206 euros ($230).  I told him that our friend Anthony would be very disappointed about Boston being postponed; he had trained perfectly for the race, something that only marathon runners can truly appreciate.  But, of course, it would be madness to invited 50,000 runners from around the world, cram them into buses to Hopkinton, and allow them to run all the way to Copley Square high-fiving thousands of cheering spectators along the way.

We are not in danger of prison or fines in Highlands for being outside yet, and in fact we understand that outdoor exercise is being encouraged provided it is not done in groups.  So Martha and I drove to Highlands and went running this morning, separately, and compared notes later.  "It was so strange!" Martha said.  "There were only two cars in front of Mountain Fresh at lunch time.  And the whole street down by the Presbyterian Church was empty."  I had noticed it, too.  There were a few individual walkers out on the streets, but not many, and virtually no traffic.  And Highlands School, which we both ran by, had only a few teacher's cars parked out front and dark classrooms.

These strange days remind me of being in a blizzard - like the Blizzard of '93 that struck Highlands on March 13, 1993 - except there is no snow and our power is on.  I used to have a T-shirt that commemorated that storm, in fact.

There is the same sense these days that we are in the midst of a terrible storm, trying to hang on desperately to something solid.  And, as they did 27 years ago, all over Town people are asking one another, "Are you doing okay?  Stay safe!"  Life is on hold, as we hunker down and wait for this blizzard to pass and the long recovery to begin.