They walked along the road; Scrooge recognizing every gate, and post, and tree; until a little market-town appeared in the distance, with its bridge, its church, and winding river.
This description is about Scrooge walking into his past, a little road that leads to the schoolhouse of his youth. Of course, Scrooge is very familiar with these surroundings, even though he hasn't thought about them for decades probably.
This morning, I ran in a Big Brothers Big Sisters Fun Run, an event in which I participate every year. This year, the two-mile race followed the same route it has followed for the past five years. Like Scrooge, I know every gate, and post, and tree. That's not a bad thing. I like knowing when I'm reaching the next turn or hill, when the railroad tracks are coming up, signalling the end of the race. It was a good run today.
My eleven-year-old daughter ran the race. She took first place in her age group. I pushed my three-year-old son in a running stroller. He took first place in his age group. I, pushing that stroller and pacing my daughter, took second place in my age group. Don't be too impressed. There was only one other person in my age group. But I got a medal.
Tonight, there's a fireworks show in the neighboring town. It's usually the best fireworks of the summer. Plus, I'll be able to get some kettle corn. I love small town life.
Saint Marty may be slow, but he's still a winner.
Confessions of Saint Marty