I’m not sure where I am. The sun is floating above the horizon; it seems unsure whether it should rise or fall. I feel a wind pass through. It neither knows nor cares where it is going. I’m along the bank of a river. The water flows inexorably in one direction, yet still it is impacted by tidal forces brought about by the moon.
I think I should start walking. There’s no one else around. Sometimes you just need to be alone. I think I need to find people. I think I’m tired of sitting along the banks of a mighty river underneath a rising/setting sun all by my lonesome.
I don’t have a music player with me, but I can listen to music all the same. It comes in fits and spurts and is sometimes stuck on repeat, but I can listen to it all the same. When I’m feeling less self-conscious I’ll even sing or dance along with the tune. I generally don’t do it in public. Most people seem to get a worried look (although sometimes bemused) when you start singing and/or dancing to a soundless song. If only they could be inside my head, but perhaps it’s best for all of us that they remain outside of it instead.
The music I hear as I walk away from the river with the sun to my back has nothing to do with either. It’s a singer singing a song to his girl; I’m not sure if it’s one from his past, present, or future. It’s not a very happy song; it’s filled with dark humor, but is tinged with hope. I can’t help but be moved by it.
I can see a few cars in the parking lot as I approach. There aren’t many people around. I think my car must be here, but I don’t see it. I keep on walking.
There is a spattering of trees around me. Most of them are of indeterminate age, but they’re not young. A few of them are distinctly old. They are tall with wide gnarly trunks. They’ve been watching the river for a long time. I only look at them for a few meager seconds. They dance a little in the wind to a tune in their heads.
I am walking alongside a road with no shoulder, but with a generous clear cut bit of land to the side. There is no sidewalk or trail, but a path of sorts has been beaten into the grass by the trampling of many feet not unlike my own. The road twists and turns and bends; it has one of those impossible speed limits that even bicyclists and runners would have a hard time remaining under. My stride ensures that I remain at a perfectly legal pace, should I chance upon a lawman.
I am walking by a quiet ball field. It has rudimentary dugouts and a simple scoreboard. It’s a bit of a throwback; no electronics or massive overhead lights. There’s no artificial turf or advertising. I’m pretty sure people simply play baseball there. A place like this can’t help but take me back to another time and place, but not today; now I walk on.
The roadway quickly banks up and rises above a train yard. Large flat buildings are everywhere, along with tracks for moving around the trains. The overpass carries on over the real train tracks, running along to someplace else. After my feet land once again on solid ground I found myself moving to the station.
There are a lot of songs that mimic the sounds of a running train. Some make a game of it, some are serious working-man protest songs, and some do it on accident. A lot of things happen on accident, some of them are even worthwhile.
I bought a ticket and I’m waiting on the track. I think I’m in the right spot. Theoretically it could take me in either direction. You’d think I’d know where I’m going. Sometimes you have to buy a ticket without having a destination in mind.
(Perhaps continued Training In)