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Second Verse, Not Same As The First

So I ended yesterday’s post declaring it was a two-parter (even though my computer seems to think “parter” is not a word).  Additionally, I read in yesterday’s or Thursday’s paper (I forget which) that beginning a sentence with “So” is one of those overused verbal things that some academic group loathes and despises.  Ha ha, I like it and I’m using it.

Where was I?

Ah yes, on my way up the hill to Herkimer College, otherwise known in this space as HCCC.  In yesterday’s final paragraph I intimated that there was some suspense as to whether I made it to the top.  According to earlier paragraphs (and I believe earlier blog posts), there is not much suspense once I start up a hill.  I rarely wimp out halfway and turn around.  However, looking at the first paragraph, I realize there was in fact no suspense.  I pretty much said I set out to do something and I did it.

Nevertheless, you have tuned in for part two and I shall write it.  If I can remember it.

I debated back and forth in my head as I approached the hill, but I pretty much knew I would do it. And, sure enough, up I went.  It seemed to take a long time.  When I was partway up, I decided to turn around and see how far I had come.  I thought it would help.  It did not, and I felt a little dizzy from turning around.  I did mention that I had a raging headache, didn’t I?

When I made it to the top I felt relieved.  I did it.  Sometimes when I make it to the top of that hill I feel a triumphant desire to walk around with my fists in the air while somebody sings, “We Are the Champions.”  Yesterday I felt merely relief.  I remembered to look to my right to see the panoramic view of the Herkimer and the other mountains.  Most of it was shrouded in fog.  That was OK.  I knew where I was.

I took the earliest turn to get to the back road back to Herkimer.  It is a less steep, less traveled road.  There were cones across it, blocking traffic.  Surely they meant vehicular traffic.  One mildly overweight middle-aged runner would be OK (and I’ll call you Shirley if I want to).  When I was running up the hill I noticed they had repaved it.  No doubt they had repaved this road or sections thereof.

I always feel a slight amount of trepidation when I run past cones.  Perhaps they are there for a better reason than I can see, and I am behaving in an inexcusably foolhardy fashion.  As I said, this was not a well-traveled road.  Houses were further down, out of earshot.  No one would hear me if I called for help.  Still, I could crawl to safety. Couldn’t I? I pictured the road giving way underneath me.  I would remain there, trapped, while the snow continued to fall.  Eventually I would be a frozen statue, like what happened to Jack Nicholson in The Shining (I hated that movie).

That road seemed to take a long time, too, but at least it was downhill.  At last I was back in the residential area.   Not much longer now till I was home.  I would share my triumph on Facebook.  I would write a blog post about it.  I would take a hot shower with lots of soap.

As it turns out, I got lots of Likes on my Facebook status and two blog posts out of it.  I had a headache for the rest of the day, but that was probably going to happen anyways.  Looking at my “related posts” that popped up at the bottom of my post, I see that I do so spend a lot of time here complaining about my headaches.  Sorry about that.  I’m afraid I can’t promise much for tomorrow, though. After all, it will be Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

 

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