tryst in the woodsen

i confess to a terrible weakness for athletes, usu of the male variety. watching strong, nimble graceful bodies in motion makes me weak in the knees. and if there's joy involved? -if you really love what you do? i'm an absolute puddle of want.

thorpe's free, ronaldinho's dribbling, phelps's fly, armstrong's climbing, coughlan's dolphining, mcewen's sprint -- droolingly inspiring. these people were made to swim, play and ride, and when they do, their essence shines right there in front of you because they absolutely love what they do. who can resist?

late yesterday afternoon, as i ran down the cart path on my way to repeats on loj hill, i cursorily waved at another trail soul running down 9ft road. one of fisch's XC/track guys, i thought. cute. fluid. nicely-proportioned, and fit without the grotesque emaciation that some runners take on.

how the heck this lovely young man ended up running next to me i cannot say. i was on my way to hill repeats. but when i run i am a different person. i am light, spirited and articulate. vivacious, even, because i am happy. not the cranky, type-a bitch my coworkers know and tiptoe around.

this scrumptious Morsel accompanied me to the bottom of the hill i intended to run up & down for the next 24min. another good thing about athletes is that they don't seem to mind if sweat's dripping off your wristbones, your nose is running and you probably don't smell like a flower. Morsel informs me he's working as an environmental biologist at a water research facility i've ridden by eighty-million times. o be still my beating heart. he too is a cornellian ... and, get this, we have THE SAME WATCH.

i grin stupidly at him and scratch my belly because i've got THE worst case of poison ivy i've ever had. that'll teach me to hurriedly shit in the woods right before a race.

Morsel is also eighteen years younger than me. christ on a stick.

certainly makes the time pass faster.