Joe Nation and the Forty Robins
It was the perfect Sunday morning to have a run through Central Park. Yesterday's raw weather- very windy with icy rain falling most of the day- blew through overnight leaving us with semi-clear skies and temperatures in the upper thirties, but who's looking at the thermometer when you could be looking at the glorious trees! Only a week ago I went looking for Spring in Ft. Tryon park, but found nothing but winter's nakedness, not even any thick buds ready to pop.
By Friday, all that had changed, the forsythia burst forth and scrawled their yellow messages onto the black-brown background of the woods and, high up on the memorial platform near where they fly the flags, there were two redbuds dancing with each other in the morning gloom. I thought yesterday's bluster might spoil all of it, knock down the blossoms before anyone else got to see them. I did not want to be that special and I was wrong. Nature is almost always tougher than I expect.
And speaking of tough, walking down to the start of this morning's race to raise awareness (and money) about Lung Cancer were about five thousand runners for the four mile and another two thousand folks who would follow them with about a mile fun/run/walk whatever.
Everyone was just a little cold, but they jumped and stretched and jogged up and down the road waiting for the nine am start.
That's when I saw my first robin of the year.
Robins have always been time markers for me, ever since Mrs. Guzman of my third grade class had us draw one, -there was a
lot of black and red crayon use that day, I'll tell you,- they have been the sole true symbol that Spring has arrived. Tulips, forsythia, daffodils, redbuds and the flowers of the dogwood can spread out in all their splendor, but for me, until I see that little bird pulling on a worm on some grassy lawn, it's just another day. And there he/she was. You'd think by this time I would have found out how to tell a he-robin from a she-robin, but I have not. I am non-discriminatory about my sole true symbols. This little one gave a few hops and a careful one-eyed look at the ground, then, spooked I'm sure by seeing 10,000 lycra clad legs, flew off. I took it as a good sign.
I haven't been doing much working out this month or last and, except for the two mile jog on Friday, no running, so I was a little concerned about how I would do. Just a little. I stretched a lot and ran up and down the road for a ways listening to my right knee. When my right knee speaks I listen. It said "Okay."
Yeah. That's a lot of people.
It took six minutes for me to get to that blue banner and the start.
The run went pretty easily for me and even easier for the 24 year old who was finishing about the same time as I reached the first mile post. He finished in 18:49. I did 43:something. He was not looking at the beautiful trees nor was he trying to spot any more robins. I slogged along listening to bits of conversation, -the pace at which the people I run with allows for people to talk normally- there was some discussion about going skiing next week in France, there was a consultation going on about what to do "When she starts in on this on Monday" and one guy answered his cellphone ...
"Hello."
...
No. Right now I'm running in a race in the Park.
...
Okay. How about noonish?.
...
Many people were wearing I AM placards on their backs. Eight by ten billboards that read:
I AM running in memory of Francie.
I AM running for Eddie.
I AM running in memory of my dad.
I AM a survivor.
It was a good reminder of what we were supposed to be thinking about on a chilly Sunday morning in the park.
After the race, I got to jog back to 59th Street, so I get credit for doing six miles today and I went through a part of the park I never do and there they were, on the Sheep Meadow's new grass --the park fences off the Meadow all winter--hopping and pulling at nightcrawlers and having the best time,
forty robins.
I know, you can't see them very well in this picture, but each and every one of those dots on the grass is a robin red breast. I have never seen so many in one place in my life. I think it's going to be a very good Spring. Don't you?
Joe(Peace. Still Possible)Nation
I just jogged over to the Number 1 at 181st Street. Didn't even raise a sweat.
