Dave Johnson
Guest WriterRunning gave me the opportunity recently to use some math theory still clinging to cobwebs of my brain. Thanks to an ancient Greek, I know how far the old silver gray Forest Lake water tower is from my deck ñ 5.4 miles over the horizon to the north-northwest. I know this because I ran two miles west and five miles north to get to the tower. Back home I applied a little Pythagorean theorem and poof (or should I say proof) there was the distance from deck to tower ñ 5.4 miles as the crow flies, or seven miles as the cow walks. Those Greeks ñ marathons and theorems.
On Memorial Day my brother Paul and I ran our 20-mile run, the longest distance in our training. On the way up Highway 61 toward Wyoming, we encountered a helicopter with a pilot bent on our destruction so we thought. We heard him before we saw him. He cleared the trees from the west, flying a M*A*S*H type helicopter with a clear bubble front. Three times he doubled back, missing the power lines directly overhead by about ten feet. We had visions of a rotor blade nicking a line and our beheading shortly thereafter. We continued on our way with heads intact while he went east, no fireball to report.
Last Sunday my daughter Maddie and I did ten miles as I wound down on the training. Maddie was on her bike and I was on foot. Half way along we heard a loud report like a cannon going off. Startled, I think I did 12 mph for twenty feet. It turned out to be a blown tire on a twin axel trailer with a Bobcat on top. Reminded me of when I worked at a gas station and a bike rider overfilled his tire as he leaned over it. Deaf for a week I bet. There is nothing like the unexpected release of seriously compressed air to get your attention.
On the quieter side, my favorite route this year was running past the buffalo herd about four miles from home. Yes there are buffalos in Forest Lake. They were usually in full profile on a high ridge as I passed. Roger Miller had it right in many ways when he sang, ìYa canít roller skate in a buffalo herd, but you can be happy if youíve a mind to.î
However Roger, there is a sad part to this rambling story of rambling, for my brother Paulís knee seized up on him at mile 18 of our Memorial Day run. So Iím running Grandmaís Marathon solo this Saturday with 9,000 others. The past two years Paul and I ran Grandmaís Marathon step for step together, finishing twice with identical times. I will miss him.
Not sure I will write again unless something phenomenal happens, like I win the race or Jesus shows up. I will let the race results on Sunday do the talking.
I leave you this season with a final thought. This all started with a simple walk outdoors five years ago. It was not about trying to go fast. Rather it was about taking time to experience life on foot. The payoff was better health and great stories to tell. So put on some comfortable shoes and go. You never know where a simple walk will leadÖ
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