My Sunday Feeling

I was too busy doing my civic duty last weekend to get this post done by Sunday. I was a musician in a former life and last Saturday I auditioned young singers for the choir at a summer honors program. I’ve done this for about 15 years now. I don’t know why they keep asking me back as I am more of a golfer than a singer nowadays and I’m not much of a golfer at that. But it’s like anything else in the last year: If someone thinks enough of me to want me to be there and it is not illegal or requires me to do math, I will probably acquiesce.

Sunday, I was on the finish line crew for the 2006 running of the Little Rock Marathon. I have more to say about that later on. But suffice it to say, after being on my feet from 6:30 a.m. until 2:30 p.m., the last thing I felt like doing was pecking on this laptop. And so, I drank a Dixie beer and read the Sunday paper until four when I had to go to a meeting over at the church.

I’m not complaining. I like to be busy. It keeps my mind occupied which, in turn, keeps me out of trouble. And I like to feel useful. But, being a gentleman of a certain age, I can no longer do everything all of the time. And so, here we are, a day late and a dollar short. But we are here.

Run for Fun- As I mentioned earlier, yesterday was the 4th running of the Little Rock Marathon. When they first started cooking this up five or six years ago, I never thought the idea would get much traction. After all, the weather around here in the spring ain’t exactly stable. I mean, two weeks ago we had an ice storm. It is not unheard of there to be snow in March. Or a tornado.

Also, Little Rock is pretty hilly for a marathon. The incline up Markham up into Hillcrest is a good 40 degrees. Back down the other side of the hill is a good 50 degrees and regardless of what you might think, going downhill is harder on you than going up. Finally, the race ends with another 45 degree trip uphill for a couple of miles to bring you back into Downtown. So it’s not an easy trek.

But you know what? The first event was a rousing success and it has done nothing but get bigger and bigger. Looking back on it, I can see why folks would come from all over to run. What I kept hearing from the out-of-towners that I spoke to was “how pretty” our hometown is. And let’s face it, when you are running 26.1 miles you have got a lot of time to look at stuff. The Yankees can get away from the bitter cold. The folks in the Midwest and Texas can see some hills and the mountain folks can see some Delta.

The race winds its way across the Arkansas River and back. Then you get to run past a Presidential Library. After that, you pass by Little Rock Central High which has got to be the only public school in the country which has been consecrated as a National Park. Pretty soon you are up in my neighborhood where both sides of Kavenaugh are lined with people cheering you on. The Baptists even shut down church and have a band playing on the front steps. Which you have to admit is very un-Baptist-like.

How cool is that?

The last leg of the journey takes you down into the Riverdale area where you run alongside the Arkansas River where there are beautiful corporate offices and lovely homes with boats docked alongside. Then it is back uphill past the corporate headquarters of Dillard’s until you crest the hill and find yourself heading for the Finish Line in front of the State Capitol.

Little Rock is pretty to look at. The people that live here, for the most part, are nice and they support the race. And you can stay in a nice hotel here without it costing you a fortune. So no wonder people came from all fifty states and a few foreign countries to run this race.

The weather for this year’s race was just about perfect with a high in the fifties under cloudy skies. The first three male finishers were from Kenya. I watched the winner as he chased the police escort into the finish line area. I couldn’t help but think of how pretty he made running look. His posture was ramrod straight. He had what coaches refer to as “happy feet” in that he seemed to just barely be making contact with the ground as he began his kick just to make sure that he wouldn’t be caught. His face was completely impassive. That is, his face was impassive until he saw a man waving a Kenyan flag which he joyously grabbed from him and ran waving it until he crossed the finish line.

The female winner ran in what appeared to be a speedo which I thought was an interesting fashion statement. Maybe she’s a triathlete who is more comfortable running while thusly attired. Maybe she’s just strange. Anyway, she was a tiny, birdlike woman with all of the womanly curves of your average nine year old boy. She made the Kenyans seem fleshy by comparison which is not the easiest thing in the world to do if you think about it.

While I helped folks get across the line and into the chute, I was struck by all of the different names on the bibs. There were Indian names, African names, Oriental and Hispanic names in addition to the usual names that you find in common among white folks and black folks here in the South. I wondered how many were visitors and how many of them were my neighbors. You never know in this day and time.

As I was leaving, an older racer came up and shook my hand. “Thanks for volunteering. You folks do a great job. My wife and I love this race and we just love Little Rock.”

As I walked to my car I couldn’t help but think” “Helluva Day in one helluva little town.”

And it was.

“Heidi Klum Wearing Just Paint”- The preceding sentence graced the top of the 2006 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue which came in a couple of weeks ago. Now nobody much believes me when I tell them this, but I really don’t have much use for the swimsuit issue. It’s not that I don’t like looking at women in scant attire. Indeed, most of the trouble I have experienced in an otherwise charmed existence may fairly be attributed to this weakness of mine. Indeed, I yield to no man in my appreciation of women in swimsuits and similar near nothings. Unless it happens to be a chick wearing a speedo in a roadrace.

But I digress.

It’s not that I am offended by such material. It’s just that I don’t buy Sports Illustrated to look at women unless they are shooting a basketball or hitting a forehand. Having said that, I never cease to be amused by the bluenose types that always write Letters to the Editor after each Swimsuit Issue in which they express outrage at the introduction of “pornography into my home” or some such.

Hello? It comes out every year. It has for 20-something years. It never ceases to amaze me the number of letter writers that express surprise by this every year. Besides, exceedingly far more offensive material can be accessed with just a click of a mouse. I mean, grow up.

SI generally describes its annual foray into cheesecake as “the exaltation of the female form” or some such bullshit.

Look. SI can’t have it both ways. Either you sell the sizzle or you sell the steak. Running “Heidi Klum Wearing Just Paint” above the masthead is not much different from running “Heidi Klum Shows Her Tits” which ain’t exactly exalting the female form. Not to mention the fact that it’s also beneath the dignity of a magazine that pretends to serious journalism.

Enough of this. A friend is coming by for a drink.

Hmmmmmm. Afterwards I may take another look at the Swimsuit Issue.

I think I missed the Heidi Klum spread.