I went to church yesterday by myself. I saw some Adventists in the bus on the way. Two women and a young boy. I knew they were Adventists because they had some Adventist published material. They sat down a row in front of me in the church, but moved back to my row when the sabbath school leader asked us all to be on the same one. So I sat by them. I offered the one lady my jacket, figuring she'd refuse, when I heard her say it was cold. She refused. We ended up going back on the same bus, too. Maybe we'll find a church close to home. We'd both like that.
I ate Ramen and crackers with butter for lunch. I wrote a little and listened to Sons of Korah. I almost fell asleep. I knew it was time for a walk. I got ready, put my map in my pocket, and headed out. West. Toward the coast. My goal was to get to the ocean. I figured it'd take about an hour.
The first part, just a couple blocks from my house, got a little worrisome right away. I stick out. No one bothered me, though. A group of guys said something, and one caught my eye as he was sitting on the curb just as I walked by him. They didn't do anything, though. I would sneak out my map every now and then to try and track progress. I followed the sun, too. West. I took a couple roads I didn't plan on. Finally I got to Barranco. It reminded me of Argentina, or Spain, or something nice. Colorful old buildings. Vacant streets with leaves blowing across sometimes. Weekends are good for traffic. I kept walking. I saw a parachute in the distance. And then no more buildings. Soon enough, a hundred feet below, lay the ocean, and about an hour away indeed. Probably less. Surfers clad in their little black wetsuits clamored for the waves. A guy with a bike came out of some random door and passed me up the stairs. I sat down at a bench underneath a trellis covered in some kind of vine to look at my map again and eat my cracker snack. Then I kept walking. North. My new goal was to get to the street my regular bus passed on and then take it home.
I passed gardens. I passed couples. Bikers and skateboarders. Not very many, just enough. I cut into the city following the sidewalk when it didn't cross a little ravine with a busy street at the bottom. I wound back toward the coast. The buildings were taller now, the hotels nicer. Fashionable clothing started to appear frequently. I was in nice Lima. I joined a straight road with lots of people on the sidewalks. Tourists, young people, old people, some beggars, lots of vendors at their kiosks. Eventually I came to a big plaza that I pass on my way to work. The Nike 10k race was being set up. Hundreds, or thousands, of people were beginning to congregate, decked out in their neon yellow race shirts. I felt extremely out of the loop and not a bit envious. Judging by looks alone, I would've beat most of them had I been in shape. I kept walking.
I got to my office. By then it was dark. Almost two hours after leaving home. I sat at my desk. I listened to music and journaled. Then, I left.
I wanted to walk down and watch the race. I thought it started at 7. Maybe it was supposed to. I hung around for a while, just trying to stay moving so people couldn't rob me as easily. Eventually they started the race. 10,000 runners, I saw on the internet today. The race started with three fireworks. I stood at the very back, waiting until the last few runners were able to pick up their stride into a jog. With "I Gotta Feeling" pumping through the race speakers, I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and smiled.
Some roads were being blockaded for the race. I waited at a place my bus was supposed to pass for several minutes. I realized it probably wasn't going to come, so I started walking down my bus route figuring it'd have to join eventually. It did--when I was about ten minutes away from home. So, I walked all the way back home, too. My left heel was bleeding just a bit. My legs were stiff. I was hungry and thirsty. And feeling a little bit..............
There's not much you should say out loud when you're feeling sorry for yourself. Most of it sounds awfully pitiful to everyone else. And you regret it all later, too. But sometimes, I'm in too much of a hurry typing and whining to just shut up. What am I racing toward?