Love, Jimmie

“An Ode to my Greenway” sounds so much nicer but we’ve already covered the bit about my talent not extending that far.  I’m just not that good, so today I have titled this correctly.  I shall write prose for you about a walking path.  And I shall include pictures.

Today I went for a walk on my Greenway.  I remembered that I wanted to share it with you because it is one of my happy places and lately, I’ve thrown a lot of negative at you.  That isn’t me, not always, so today I’m giving you a positive.

Isn’t it gorgeous?  Today is was misty and slightly messy.  Isaac has done his work on Tennessee.  Some twigs are down and a few plant stalks are bent. That’s it really, that and the rain.   When I began my walk, the sky was gray and the mist was coming, so I was hopeful that I would miss the most of the bad weather.  Unfortunately, by the end of my walk, I was rain damp and my hair was a giant sticky mess. I didn’t care. 

I’ve been walking this Greenway for maybe five years now.  I’ve met lots of fantastic people there.  Remember, there was the woman with the giant corkscrew curls who prayed all the way up that one giant hill.  Speaking of that hill, I took Madre to the Greenway once and I warned her about it.  I told her it was rough.  “It can’t be any worse than the one at home. I’m fine.”  I kept my peace and when we walked up the first section of that hill, we were both huffing and puffing pretty good.  “That wasn’t so bad,” Madre said, and then we turned the jack-knife corner and she saw the rest of it.  “Damn,” she huffed and we trudged on. One of these days at the top of that hill I will suddenly notice that I have a Beyonce booty and I will know that I got it because I drag myself up that hill far too much for my liking. 

There is a Mexican man that I see on the Greenway often.  He wears the exact same outfit every time he walks, a white polo shirt and khaki shorts.  When he sees me, he places both hands over his heart and throws them out to the side like his heart is growing.  He doesn’t speak a word of English.

There is a giant slab of a man named Jeff, who is cu-u-u-u-t-e!  So cute!  He’s nice, too, and he walks the Greenway literally every day.  He never misses, even in the rain.  One day he saw the Mexican man give up his heart to me and he said, “Be careful, Jimmie.  You are an easy girl to have a crush on and I don’t want you getting hurt out here.”  Jeff is happily married, as far as I can tell, so no big ideas anyone. 

There is a man I saw today who was doing this strange giraffe-like walk, kind of stalking and jerking his knees backward with every step.  It was weird.  He was puffing air in and out of his cheeks, like a locomotive and I couldn’t help but think that he was doing far more damage to his knees by walking in such a stiff manner than doing any good for his body.  On the other hand, there is a woman I see who runs like a gazelle, kind of on her toes and hopping.  I’ve seen her body change over the years and her figure is quite nice.  This is why I want to run, people. 

My favorite Greenway person is the 70-ish year old man who does this shuffling run for six miles or so.  He blows past me whether I am running or not, which is always a surprise as from a distance it really does look as if he’s just slowly shuffling along and next thing I know I’m left in a cloud of aftershave.  It is disheartening to know I will never get as fast as him.  He wears his trucker hat perched on top of his head, his striped athletic socks pulled up to his knees and his shorts just as baggy as a teenaged boy’s.   I admire him.

I’ve seen more deer, rabbits and snakes than I can count.  The path meanders along the lake and when the sun hits the water just right, you can see fish floating near the surface.  I’ve seen an otter doing the backstroke.  I see turtles paddling around all the time. 

In the summer, the honeysuckle is potent.  Everything is so GREEN.  In the fall the leaves are gorgeous.  You can hear the deer rustling around in the morning.  When I was going through the heartbreak, I would walk on that path, watching my breath puff in the cold morning air, and a doe would come out of the woods and just stare at me.  There was no fear. I could get almost close enough to touch her.  There was comfort in that although I’m not sure why.

A walk on the Greenway was a lovely way to begin my Labor Day.  Afterwards I went to the gym and nearly broke my legs doing lunges and squats.  I’ll have a night out with friends later.  And in the middle of all that, I, glamorously, spent the afternoon on my hands and knees cleaning the grout in my kitchen.  Nice, no?  But I really wanted to share my Greenway with you, my happy place. 

Happy Labor Day, everyone!