Thursday, July 30, 2020

Farewell Little Mini

I completed some tough runs early this week, and by mid-week I was left with a feeling of accomplishment but also cumulative fatigue.  Monday, just as I was starting my run at Founders Park, two walkers whose names I do not know but who are regulars told me, "Somebody just told us there is a bear at the stoplight!"  There are only four stoplights in Highlands so that narrowed down the bear's location.  It struck me as funny somehow; I pictured a black bear, sitting patiently at a red light waiting for it to change.  "Since he's down here, I think I'll go up Bearpen!" I told them.

And I did, climbing and climbing up my familiar mountain on an exceptionally humid morning, my seventh Monday morning in seven weeks.  There was more traffic than usual on this narrow, unpaved road, and I felt a little ill-tempered because of it; I never want to step off the road on the ascent.  But then I realized that they were all here for the same reason I was, enjoying the altitude, the stunning views, and cool mountain air that must feel like heaven to part-time homeowners from places like Florida or south Georgia.  The camera on top of Bearpen this morning showed this sunrise over Whiteside Mountain:


I was still dehydrated when I went up to Hickory Street to help with the daunting project of emptying out Martha's Mom's house and preparing it for sale.  Tuesday was more of the same, and by Wednesday morning I was not certain whether I wanted to run a mile let along complete some intervals.  But as I neared Harris Lake and the 400-meter starting line, I told myself I would try one of them.  I ran faster than expected, and thought I would try just one more.  How often has that phrase gotten a runner into trouble?  "Just one more."  But no harm was done, and the final one turned out to be my recent fastest interval time, 2:20.

But then I was exhausted, walking some of the cool-down mile, my already-stretched runner's savings account depleted.  And work continued in the afternoon at Hickory Street, where progress is finally being made, the big house slowly emptying as family members select what they would like, and now an estate sale may be just around the corner.


Tuesday, our Mini Cooper developed some problems, and we had to have it towed to our mechanic, who called last night with the grim news that we had a bad crankshaft pulley and several other problems, which would cost much more than the the value of this 2005 car.  So we decided to reluctantly part with this faithful car that has taken us on many wonderful trips, especially that audacious one four years ago all the way across the United States and back again. 

Farewell little Mini!

Atlanta Motor Speedway

The Merced River in Yosemite National Park

Just Outside of Yosemite National Park

In the Desert near Badlands National Park

Palm Springs, California

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