I did it. After all these years, I finally made that journey
run from the house that has been floating around in my head just waiting for
the opportunity to come to fruition. There are a couple more routes in there,
and I hope to get them out soon.
Besides being off work, my wife was out of town, so Friday I
finally felt free enough and fit enough to go really long just for the fun of
it. I left the house at 7:20 am with two packs on and an eagerness matched only
by my naiveté. Since my legs didn’t feel well from the previous days training
and I already knew the trip would take lots of walking, I began the day with a
slow walk to allow for a gradual warm up and to put my muscles into a fat
burning metabolism from the beginning.
I went west to Grand Blvd, then south to Claiborne, onto the
levee, and I crossed the bridge while cars zipped past driven by people headed
to work, I suppose. Grenada Blvd was a bit dicey with heavy traffic, no
shoulder, and seemingly no speed limit. Relief is what I felt when I made my
way to Highway 7, crossed it onto Grenada Blvd Extended and ran traffic free
for a while. Now I was getting away from home and the morning was beginning to
seep into my being. For the first time, I heard the birds sing, felt the
temperature of the air, and noticed the pleasant sky above.
Shortly after running out of Grenada Blvd Extended and back
onto Highway 7, I crossed the Big Sand Creek Bridge and then turned left onto a
nondescript county road. There, I ran on gravel past a tupelo gum break, a
lake, and then straight as an arrow down the Big Sand levee which is as high
and wide as the Mississippi river levee. The gravel road, at the end of the
levee, turns onto the old Highway 7 and then meanders through the delta leaving
Leflore County and crossing into Carroll before finally rejoining the new
highway several miles later.
About two miles north on Highway 7 brought me to Whaley Road
where I turned west. I crossed two bridges within the first half mile, the
second of which spanned the Yalobusha River. The road is gravel there and
parallels a swampy area locally known as the Tippo Run. As I trotted along I
saw an old black man with a rake doing something under some pecan trees. “How
far to Money?” I asked. He paused and seemed to be in deep thought. “About four
miles,” he answered coming back from a long way away. After about one of those four,
I stopped on a bridge and taped my feet with some kinesio, and then peed into
the water below. They, the feet, felt a lot better when I resumed running.
After another one of the four, Steele Henderson, one of my
Comp I students drove up. “You need some Gatorade?” he asked after first
inquiring about my distance which was a little over nineteen miles at this
point. He works on an area farm and was on his way to town for lunch. “Heck
yeah,” I answered and tried without success to give him money. Nice kid. I told
him I would be at the fire station in Money, one of my stops.
I finally came to the big bend on Whaley Road where you can
see Money off in the distance just beyond the railroad tracks. I heard a train
coming from the south and figured it was going to be close. I didn’t want to be
delayed by the train when Steele made it back, so I picked the pace up. Then I
heard another train, this one from the north. I ran even harder. The northbound
train stopped while the southbound train chugged across the intersection I was
headed towards. When the last of the train cleared the crossing, I went into a
sprint, or at least what I call a sprint, knowing the other train would be
plowing ahead immediately. As I ran over the crossing, I looked south and saw
the northbound train closing the gap on me.
Over the crossing, I slowed to a shuffle and tried to catch
my breath as I made the last quarter of a mile to the Money Volunteer Fire
Department Building. Once there, I took my packs off, my shoes off, my shirt
off, my hat off. I was very tired and so stiff it felt like I was breaking in
two when I sank to the concrete. I
groaned a little then I lay down and could have gone to sleep except for the
mosquitoes which dive bombed me without regard for their own lives. I was a bit
over twenty-miles in with another ten to go, and I was pretty much spent. Why
do I do this?
I got out the sardines I had saved all morning, and the
peanut butter crackers. From the back of my Nathan I retrieved the little pink
kiddy spoon I had found months before on Money Road. I had picked it up and
saved it for such a moment as this. I ate my meal slowly, listening to the
traffic for a northbound truck, for Steele to make it back with my cold drink.
The sardines were excellent and filling but it was then that I realized I had
forgotten my peanuts. Peanuts are a great addition to any journey run meal and
I missed them terribly and regretted my lack of practical memory.
Steele drove up and handed me a cold thirty-two ounce Lime
flavored PowerAde. Only the peanuts could have made it better. A few minutes
after my long suffering student left, I put on my dry shirt that I had packed
for this occasion, strapped on my refilled packs, and headed south down Money
Road towards Greenwood, Mississippi. I had traveled this road many, many times
in automobiles, on bicycles, on foot, but this was the first time I had over
twenty foot miles on my legs and was trying to get home from here.
I walked a mile or so and let my food settle some before I
resumed my old-man-survival shuffle. When I did start back running, I remember
thinking I should try not to stop because I wasn’t sure I could resume a jog
again. I also remember thinking that if anyone offered me a ride, I would take
it.
Well, I got my chance. About the time I was drawing near the
radio station, approximately two and a half miles from the house, two old men
in a jeep looking vehicle stopped dead on Money Road and asked me if I wanted a
ride. I instantly said, “Yes,” but then I had second thoughts. I knew I would
regret it if I took the ride so I hesitated and then said, “No, I’ll make it on
in on foot.”
“We’re not going to hurt ya,” the old man behind the wheel said.
“I know, I know,” I answered. And then they drove away.
I even managed to shuffle a little more and then somewhere
on the Blvd. I slowed to a walk for the rest of the way home. Once there, I
wasted no time in getting out of my wet clothes and lying down. The total
distance was 30.68 miles.
Then the phone rang. It was John Misterfeld. He wanted to
swim.
