August and September were hot. Really, really hot. As we turned the corner into October at 92°F and 98% humidity I wondered if Alabama had any season other than Hot. People at school promised cooler temps were around the corner; I didn’t believe them. My morning runs were arduous. Every block required a committed, deliberate choice to continue. At each intersection, I’d find myself weighing the metabolic cost of another block or another hill. Some mornings were so hot, the metabolic cost outweighed the benefits and I’d turn home. Literally dripping sweat, I’d walk up my steps, slip off my shoes at the door and walk straight into a cold shower, clothes still on.
Then the hurricane came. And suddenly it’s Fall.
The mornings are a crisp 65°F, with humidity regularly below 85%. There was a time, not so long ago, I would have called that heat training, now I call it bliss. I found a four-mile loop with a hill that fits my morning schedule pretty well. The last half mile is a gentle down-hill grade through an old neighborhood. Last week, as I ran down the road, I passed a little boy running down the sidewalk. As I started to pass, he side-eyed me, grinned wickedly and kicked into gear. It was a race, and he was determined to win. Back pack jostling, hair flying, he kept me at full tilt all the way to the corner. Suddenly, he threw his hands in the air and yelled, “I win! I WIN!!” I congratulated him on his run and asked him where his grown up was. He pointed to a blue speck two blocks away. I said we should walk back towards her so she wouldn’t be worried. “Her name is Hillary,” he said, “My name is Jamie, but you can call me James. I like to run, I’m very fast, and I’m good at math.” Once in proper sight of his grown up, I waved good-bye and jogged home.
Two days later on the same stretch of road I met Jamie called James and Hillary again. As soon as he recognized me, he smiled wide, got an approving nod from his grown up and bolted down the sidewalk. Two blocks later, his arms in the air and triumph in his fists, we turned back up the hill to collect his Hillary. “I also really like science, you know,” he said nonchalantly, “It’s my favorite subject at school, even though I’m very good at math.” I told him that I was a biologist, which is a kind of scientist, and I liked science a lot, too. He turned towards me abruptly, tipped his head way back and put his hands on his cheeks in the most melodramatic display of surprise I’ve ever seen, “No. Way. You just blew my MIND!!” he declared. I laughed. Jamie called James is clearly a ham. After exchanging pleasantries with Hillary, I said good-bye and turned to jog home. James hollered after me, “Bye! I’ll see you tomorrow or maybe the next day! And maybe you will win!”
The last two months have been pretty bumpy. Most days I’m sure I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, every other day is too busy to bother with the rightness or wrongness of my move to Alabama. It’s a moot point anyway, I’m here for the long haul. And things aregetting better. I’m making friends at school, my students say hello when we see each other outside class and I can drive to and from my favorite trails without Google’s help. The rivers here are still strangers to me, and I to them, but it takes time to honestly know a wild thing. We’ll likely know each other soon enough.
Jamie called James is right. Whether I win or not, I will be back tomorrow.
