Every Saturday:
The triathlete runs past me
Smiles and says hello
Disappears for
I don't know how long
Reappears and smiles

Says we must be crazy

We alone who are out there
So early on a Saturday morning.

I smile and nod

But he is gone.

I wonder
What he sees.

He runs.
I walk.

Beaver smacking that pond
Saying beware she is here
Mallards swimming at their own pace
Saying so what, so what, so what
Canada geese saying do what you must
We are crossing the road at our own pace
Crows cheerfully waiting for death
Squirrels.

Well.

You know about squirrels.

I wonder what he sees

As my eye traces the line of the echo
Of the muskrat who makes his way
Across the silent pond.

I mean that I am sure
He sees what I see

But I wonder how it is
To see all that with the heart
Working so much harder
Muscles working so much harder
Breath working so much harder.

I wonder how it is.
What he sees.

I am so slow.
So very, very slow.

I have been wondering what life would be like if I put some muscle into it. I am a very lazy person about a lot of things. There are so many things I just don't do because I just don't feel like it. When I watch this athlete glide on by, I do wonder how the intense physical experiences to which he subjects himself affects how he sees the world. I wonder--and I respect his effort. Ironically, the other day he was walking his dog and we said hello, but I didn't recognize him at the slower pace. Again, ironically, he said he had to walk for the next few weeks because he damaged his knee running.

One Single Impression