6:32 PM, pulling into the parking area at the track in the park:

The track at the park. (Click for spy satellite view, courtesy of the Terraserver.)

I'm listening to "The Buzz" in the car, something I hardly ever do, but I scanned across the station and the song is on.

I'm half-singing, half-screaming, "...spin around and fall down, do it again, you stumble and you fall, yeah, you do it again, you spin around and fall down, do it again, you stumble and yoooooou faaaaall... whum-bumbumbumbumbum."

I think the Sheriffs' Deputy in the vehicle next to me is looking at me funny. Fortunately, he didn't say anything, because I didn't have any of my father's Houston Police Department cards to palm off on him so he would cut me slack.

I plug in my headphones and turn on the local NPR station and head up to the track. Spiffy! They're in fundraiser. Weren't they just in fundraiser? [groan]

Flip over to the local pinko sta... er, Pacifica station, instead. Nukes, workers rights, political affairs in tiny countries nobody ever heard of... yeah, this is just great.

It's too brisk to be out here in shorts. Everybody else seems to be wearing sweat pants or warm-ups of some sort. Probably with good reason. I guess if I get walking, then I won't notice the cold...

6:38 PM, about one-eighth mile:

I'm walking along the eastern side of the track, just between the first two islands, which I've dubbed "Duck Island" and "Lake Mammal Island," after the creatures that seem to gather on the islands.

("Lake mammals?" Yeah, there are these... creatures... that live in the lake. They're not beavers, and I don't think they're otters. They have rat-like tails, but they're not rats or possums. They're not fugly enough to be nutria. I don't know what they are, to be perfectly honest.

Give me a break, okay? I studied physics, math and computer science, not zoology.

Friendly buggers, though. They get along well with the ducks from the next island.)

Sitting on a blanket near the water was a couple, staring out over the water watching the sun set over the artificial hill at the far end of the track. He sat in front with his hand over his shoulder caressing her cheek, the girl holding him from behind.

I could tell they hadn't been together terribly long, but long enough to be close and intimate. I'd never seen them there before, so this was probably the first time they were sharing this moment together. Their faces bathed in the dying orange of the sun disappearing over the rise, they turned and kissed.

A chill swept over me from the growing darkness. I suddenly felt very alone.

6:44 PM, one-half mile marker:

I am doing my best to pick up anything that isn't music. Right now is drive-time music. I don't really like drive-time playlists, so I am trying to listen to one of the aforementioned stations on my nanoradio. The cord of the headphones is also used as the antennae in this design, so I am doing weird gyrations with my arms trying to play like I'm an aerial.

I've had this idea off and on -- sure, lots of people build .mp3 players into their vehicles, but how many people build low-power broadcast stations into their cars? I can pick up lots of stuff in my car I don't have a prayer of picking up, even at home. I could pick an unused frequency, let the car pick up something I want to hear (or play stuff off that .mp3 and realmedia player I want to put in my car), broadcast at about 10 watts, and listen to something I want to hear for a change.

Clump, clump, clump. I hear somebody running up behind me, so I move over ("slow traffic keep right") before I get run over. Oh, yeah, and quit flailing about trying to pick up more information about strikes and political turmoil.

An athletic woman about Gurugrrl's age and size jogs past me. I am looking to my left as she passes, and as she goes by she smiles and says, "good evening" in a deep east Texas drawl. "Hi there," I reply, and give her a weak smile back. I am sure she didn't notice, since I am sure she only said hello to be nice to this slow lunkhead on the track doing the macarena with his radio, and she was going so much faster than me that she didn't really have time to notice.

Only the most superficial similarities made me think of Gurugrrl as this woman passed me by and ran on ahead, threading her way through the sparse walkers ahead. But I couldn't help but wish this woman was really her, near enough that I could pursue, or at least try, even though I know that no matter how hard I tried I couldn't keep up. But for a time, just maybe, we could run beside each other and not be alone out there.

And maybe if she was Gurugrrl, she'd slow down, match my pace, so we could finish "the track" together.

6:50 PM, three-quarters mile marker:

I'm passing the woods that always remind me of a grove where I'd put a horde of orcs or hobgoblins if I were gamemastering a live-action roleplay session here. They're thick, always dark and... well, just creepy.

I've never been out here this time of year, though -- the leaves are starting to turn. Generally, the leaves turn three times a year around here. In early spring they turn green, in late July or August, they turn brown, and once they start to recover in October they get smacked by cooler weather and decide to do the traditional fall colors thing on the way to turning loose.

I thought about the last year, and all that had gone by. Leaving the business. Deaths. Contemplating my own death far too often. Making myself a wreck over mistakes. Now missing someone I have really gotten into.

Nothing has quite gone as planned.

But I never started the year even expecting to have somebody to miss. I never started the year thinking I'd meet Crafty or Eleanor or Gurugrrl any of the other people I've expected to call friends. I never expected to understand myself better, like I think I do now, even though I still struggle. I never expected to come to some sort of terms or closure with my past.

I feel somewhat better, although it's short lived while I trudge up the last killer hill.

6:56 PM, one mile, 345 feet marker, leaving the track (thank goodness):

Back aching, legs burning, I leave the track.

I can't walk a mile without getting winded. Wow, I suck. On the bright side, I'm not cold anymore.

A county truck drives in, blaring a siren, telling people the park is closing soon. It's getting dark.

The woman jogger runs past me again and stops at a picnic table. She sits on the edge and rolls back on it, breathing hard. I keep going, but wonder what Gurugrrl is doing right then, and hope she's okay.

I look back. The couple is still by the water, now facing each other.

I make a wish for the new year and get in the car.

restlessmind