'An Imaginary Gun Lap'

Today's track meet -- like everything else -- has been cancelled.  

I think for sanity's sake I'll walk down to our track, yellow note pad in hand, and watch imaginary coaches start their watches, hear them tell their kids to "work this lap," and "two to go, get up there," and "you've got this."

Will see the starter tell and warn the kids around the finish line to stand back where the timers can see. The kids will listen -- for at least six seconds -- before the adrenaline of the finish kicks in and all are screaming. I'll actually smile inside where I envision that scene -- that safe chaos where all hell breaks loose at another photo finish.  

Maybe I'll go back in time, through the years, and feel one of my former senior's adrenaline when he's on the fourth lap trying to break the sacred 5-minute mile, will scream out of habit at my top girl not to run the first lap too fast, will shoot healthy vibes into one of my wounded girls' legs -- praying those shin splints don't rear their ugly head(s).  

In perspective, it's the smallest of the small, though sanity matters no matter who you are. It's sort of ironic -- they tell you the smartest thing you can do is go home and stay there -- don't contaminate the world. 

I live alone -- I'm a self-contained human being for the most part. And I don't usually need to go where everybody knows my name. 

Still, sometimes it's good to be in a place where at least somebody does…