Saturdays Are…

Saturdays are gloomy, gotta get it done, because it is going to rain days.  The sign tells me it is a 5 miles at a “low degree of difficulty” day.

Saturdays are for thinking of the summer evenings when the park is full of sweaty soccer players and their cheering, over involved parents.  There is an aliveness and striving in the park during soccer season.  Not so this morning.  At a breezy, 38*F there were just a couple runners and an earnest robin.

Saturdays are supposed to be for enjoying this run, on this morning, training to feel this pavement and breathing this air.  Hmm, I have been thinking about next Saturday’s 8 miler all this week.  It is 8 weeks until the Indy Mini, so it is time for an 8 mile run.

Next Saturday’s run is looming and resolute on the training plan, on the roads of the neighborhood and in my brooding mind.

Saturdays are a “low degree of difficulty” day.  It is on the sign.  It must be true.

There is a space, you know, between uncertainty and for sure.  You can pause to be powerful when you push aside intimidation.  Realize you “get to,” not just “have to,” and freedom will grow.  Maybe that is what Saturdays are for, a sign pointing to certainty and freedom, because the road is just 8 miles long.

Words for March

Hesitate for just a second and, poof,

Doubt will seep in and diminish the

Desire to save those quixotic observations and

Parlay each poetic vision into a

Vivid, technicolor creation that would

Swarm and swirl with whimsy and song, but you

Ruminate, don’t you?

Nervous about displaying your soul,

Nuance, innuendo and those crazy whispers your hope hisses is all a bunch of

Abstract garbage if you can’t get it down on paper.



Feathered Jazz

Blackbirds strut and groove

Sparrows improvise with chords

Mourning doves croon soul

Nuanced riffs to serenade

The sweet interlude of Spring




Acrostic: Nervous/Northern Cardinals


I was going to try to take a really awesome shot of the cardinals that come to my deck to feed, but, hey, you know, what, this is way more what my life is actually like.

Nests of twigs hold a clutch of
Eggs, speckled brown
Residents, year round
Vibrant red males mean a healthy mate
Often territorial
Unique two-parted song that both will sing
Sunflower seeds are their favorite thing

Northern Cardinals
Edgy and excitable
Represent a
Very many state bird
Ohio, Illinois, Kentucky and Virginia to name a few
United State’s sports teams also include the bird
St. Louis Cardinals for baseball and Arizona Cardinals for football




Home, Water and Big

I have been a bad Blogging U student, as I have either ignored or avoided the assignments.  Well, here are some entries to hopefully put me on the path to enlightenment and grace…or at least I will have posted some reasonably adequate pics.

Home. Someone made their home in my home’s maple tree.
Water 3 ways: pool, Gulf and a storm off-shore.
My entry for “Big”.

Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #139

Blue grackle perches

Yellow eyed king of the deck

Black winged day tripper

Saturdays Are…

Saturdays are for double dipping.

A 5:30 run for the sunrise.
A 5K race for the bling.







Saturdays are for mileage.  You parlay that time on your feet, 10, 12, 14 weeks of training, into a half (or full) marathon, a deep satisfaction and realization you are a changed person.

Saturdays are for understanding your legs will go, it is your mind that needs training.

Saturdays are for speaking with Jane.  We only see each other at local races.  Jane is 73.  She has been running for 40 years.

Saturdays are for being thankful I can run.  Jane can run.  We can lift our faces to the Spring sun and breathe.  For right now, on this March morning, we will accept the breezy, blue sky, our achy knees and miles of camaraderie.

What are your Saturdays about?
Do you know a “Jane” who inspires you?


Acrostic: Doubt

Hesitate on 3/1 and Doubt on 3/2.  Seems that someone at WordPress is having an existential crisis.  Or is March simply the month of uncertainty and ambivalence?

Does the moon scud across the sky
Or is it the clouds
Under some lusty spell
Belaying horizontally
Through my fanciful universe?

Speeding Tickets



At 4, she would bolt across the street.
“Look both ways!”  I called.

First day of school, watching that blonde head,
She never looked back.

Basketball, cross country
Always striving.

Half marathon,
A metaphor, of course she placed.

We bought her a car.
Speeding tickets.

Job during college.
Got promoted.

She never hesitated.
Not that I could see.

“Fly, be free!” I used to say.
She enlisted.