Yesterday I set out to run 9 miles. I was only scheduled to run 8, but after talking to this girl at the gym who is also training for the half marathon, I decided I needed to run at least 9. She had already run 10 miles, and was talking about how easy it was for her. So in order to save face around the gym, and in order to prove to myself that I could actaully run the half marathon, I decided to kick it up to 9 miles on Easter Day. Because, you know, I love Jesus.
So I get out there at about 8:30am, and I am really impressed at how well it's going. The run is borken up in my mind between the major streets that trend in a shouthernly direction on the Keystone Trail. They go like this: Center, Grover, L, Q, and Harrison. I zip by Center like it's nothing at all. There is almost no wind, and hardly anyone on the trail. It takes longer than I thought to get to Grover, but I am still feeling very good, despite a cat that was glaring at me from the woods to my right.
Soon after Grover, I see these three men dressed in black coming in my direction but still quite a ways off. I don't have my glasses on as I am running, so they start out looking like goth kids, but soon focus into policemen. There are three of them, and the one in front is running now. I see that they are running up to something on the ground, and my first thought is "why are they running up to that sign that's been knocked over.
Well it turns out that was no sign. That is a body on the side of the trail. A big old unresponsive body. With a bog fat beard, and blood all over its chest. Apparently dead. Defintiely unresponsive. The cops try and shield me from it as I walk by, which I am grateful for, as the idea of running by a dead man makes me a little sick to my stomach (turns out I'm human after all - sometimes I wonder).
I keep running, and I make it past L, and then Q, and I turn around just short of Harrison. I figure it's Easter, I'm getting tired, and I think I feel good about my ability to turn around, and from where I am turning around, I'm in the neighborhood of nine miles.
So I start heading back, and as I suspected, I had been running with a breeze at my back the whole time. So I am now running into a headwind. But it is the nicest headwind I can ever rememeber. All it's doing is cooling me off. I can't believe how lucky I am, with the exception of the dead body.
But as I pass Q and then L, my luck runs out. I still feel good, but the police have now roped off the trail where they found the body, and they aren't letting anyon by anymore. And since the trail is on a ravine, I have no other options of getting around. So I turn off and head into the neighborhoods.
I have no idead how to get around in the neighborhoods. I know the trail is right next to 60th Street, and I know I need to find 60th Street to get around the taped off stuff, but like most residential areas, this one is all jacked up. The roads twist and turn, and to my great delight, head uphill. Now the charm of the trail is the absence of hills, and this all goes out the window as I am trying to find 60th. I finally run up this gigantic hill and find access to 60th, but as I look down the road in the direction I need to go, I notice two things. 1) No sidewalk. 2) More hills.
So I start trudging up the hill and quickly discover that the non sidewalked roadside is all spongy from moles. This makes running even harder. Then I see a dead bird (that's one dead man and one dead bird). Then I finally get to Grover so I can hook back up with with trail.
The rest of the run goes pretty well. I hop on the trail right in front some guy, and by the grace of god I am able to stay in front of him the rest of the way. This is the first time I have ever not been passed since I started running when I was about 15. This guy looked like each step could have been his last.
I got off the trail and ran the rest of the way back to to my Grandma's house. Finally reached my stopping point and nearly collapsed. But I couldn't collapse all the way because a car pulled up and the driver asked me if I lived in the apartments I was nearly collpasing in front of. I told him I didn't. Why it seemed like a good idea to approach someone who is so he exhasted he can't stand is still not clear to me.
The rest of the day consisted of me talking about how tired I was from my 10 mile run (yes, with the deadman detour it turned into a 10 mile run), and showing off my homemade Lombardi Tropy to my family at our easter dinners. Oh - and telling everyone about the dead guy.
After a while everyone got sick of hearing about the running, my grandma noted that I mispelled the word "trophy" on the trophy ( I spelled it "tropy"), and my dad started doubting my dead man story because there was nothing about it on the news.
Then right before I went to bed I found the story on my ipod. Here's what it said.
A jogger on the Keystone Trail called Omaha police about 9 a.m. Sunday to report an injured man near the trail at 65th and L Streets.
Police were investigating to determine how the victim, 51, was assaulted, said Officer Jacob Bettin, a police spokesman.
He was taken to the Nebraska Medical Center with an injury not believed to be life-threatening.
Police had no further information.
HE TRULY WAS RISEN!