What's a walk without curling up in the fetal position on a bus bench??

Saturday I was supposed to go on a group walk with my usual gang of ladies. But, I set my alarm for 5:00 PM rather than AM...hence, I didn't make it. So, I set off on my own. I decided to park at the lot at NW 2nd and Davis...near the Steel Bridge. From there I walked to the south entrance of Forest Park. So, from parking lot to Forest park takes you through the trendy Pearl district and then through a nice neighborhood (though mostly uphill!) on NW Thurman until you reach the entrance. From there you can make several choices to either stay on the main road, Leif Erickson Dr., on go off on more woodsy primative trails. I choose Leif Erickson Dr., mainly because I am directionally challenged and feared if a took a trail I would never find my way out of Forest Park, and because Leif Erickson Dr has mile markers so you know how far you are going. So, by the time I had reached the park entrance sign, I had probably traveled about 2.5 miles. I decided I would go 6 miles in and then 6 miles back down to the entrance, plus the 2.5 miles to my car, which would total 17 miles.

So, I set off on Leif Erickson Dr., which has a few uphills, but it is all forested and shady and very pleasant. There were lots of sporty people about, runners, walkers and bikers. I have noticed the runners are of two types- the super-skinny hard-core runners that look like they are running from or to something very important OR they are very, very constipated. I don't know if I've ever been as concentrated as these people. I suppose that's what makes them hard-core runners. The other type of runner can be very, very fit to middling. The tend to be more on the "jogger" side. They also seem much happier. They run with their companions, human or canine and seem to enjoy exercising. A foreign concept to me, but, hey whatever floats your boat...I suppose they would not enjoy laying on the couch eating chips and watching the History Channel's "Hitler's Henchmen" but to me that sounds like an okay Saturday afternoon.

So, I'm walking and I'm doing good. My pace is good, I feel good. People say "Good Morning" (but not the concentrated super-runners- seeing their face of concentration I am tempted to stick out my tongue, cross my eyes and scream "ooga booga" at them) But other people are friendly. I respond by saying "Good Morning" but in my mind I make up my own more candid response "Good morning to you sexy middle aged jogger guy!" and "Good morning to you excessively tattooed but very fit guy!" and "Good morning to you obviously lesbian couple with your wiener dog and tie dyed shirts!"

Do you remember the very pretty and popular girls from Jr. and High school gym class? Remember how daintily the exercised so they would not sweat off their make-up or cause their excessively sprayed with Aqua-Net super hairdos droop? Well, I was behind such girls, although these girls looked to be in their mid-twenties. They had very new and very coordinated workout clothes, perfect ponytails and make-up and they "jogged" very daintily and very slowly because I was only a little ways behind them and they didn't get very far ahead of me for a couple of miles. And I don't walk fast, and not for reasons of vanity- I'm just not in good shape yet. Anyway they were stretching and one of them said to me, "Hi, I have kind of a weird question, but do you have any chapstick? My friend is addicted to chapstick and we didn't bring any." And I said, no I don't have any, sorry. Perhaps I am hopelessly old-fashioned or overly concerned about germs and such, but is chapstick a really share-able item? Sharing chapstick is kind of like kissing someone isn't it? Anyway, if I would have had some chapstick, I would have just given her the tube, I wouldn't have wanted it back.

Then I get to milepost 6 and turn to head back, for about a mile in my head I congratulate myself for being so kick-ass and walking at such a great pace. My joy would be short-lived. It started to get hot, very hot like 90 degrees hot. I started to get a headache, I started to feel queasy. I knew I was near the end of the trail and a port-o-potty. I thought maybe if I go to the bathroom things will be better. Wrong. Someone had taken a gigantic poo in the port-o-potty, but missed the hole and pooped on the seat and it was 90 degrees and opening the door I was greeted by swarming flies and a wall of the nastiest stink you can imagine. Plus, the visual was pretty horrifying as well. Anyway, the feeling that I was going to puke became a certaintity at this point. I did make it a little further almost to the entrance, but then had to jump off the trail and puke down a ravine. A young man of about 17 was headed onto the trail on his mountain bike. He saw/heard me puking out my intestine and said "Jesus lady! Are you okay!??!" I managed to scramble back on to the trail and totally lie and say "Oh, yes, I'm fine. really." I then kind of staggered down the hill a bit. And this polite young man kind of followed along beside me. He said, "hey look sit on that bench and drink some water." So, sat on the bench and drank water. The nice young man looked at me very concerned and before peddling off said, "You should sit down for awhile"

I did sit for a couple of minutes but all I wanted to do was get back to my air conditioned car. I thought, well, you've made it over 14 miles, the last 2 and half will seem like nothing. Of course I was delusional. I set off, this time with no tree shade cover at about 3:15 pm in the searing heat, with a headache with the water sloshing in my empty stomach. I made it down a hill back into the city. The pain in my head was nearly unbearable. Thinking that I may pass out I spotted a bus bench. I thought I sit here for a minute, then I thought, I must lay down. I curled myself into the fetal position. People passed by with looks of disgust or concern. I wanted to cry, started to cry, but thought..."I must get it together, this is no kind of strategy for getting back to my car" Part of my strategy was getting off the bench. I walked through the trendiest part of town, with all the good-looking people looking at me as if I were a skunk at a wedding. I spotted a Starbucks and ordered an orange juice. I didn't know if they would serve me or call security. After 15 minutes and the OJ and a CLEAN bathroom with a flush toilet. I set off. I couldn't stop or I thought I would totally collapse. A gaggle of ladies were blocking the sidewalk and I yelled at them "MOVE!! I only have four blocks to go and I CAN'T STOP!" They leapt out of the way.

Then the joy, the estatic joy, of taking my shoes off and putting on my sandals in my air-conditioned car. These evil walking sagas really make you appreciate the little things in life. I wanted to kiss my car. My lovely, lovely car with its magic elixir of AIR CONDITIONING! I shoved my face into the fan, and moaned with pleasure. No drink, no drug, (perhaps not even sex, well that's going too far) is better than sitting down and taking your shoes off in the air conditioned car after walking 17 miles in the 90 degree heat.

I got home and soaked my feet in ice water. While I was soaking my feet my alarm went off. I hobbled to the bedroom and turned it off. The clock said 5:00 pm.