Training Again

I've been gone a while haven't I? I'm finally back to a training schedule and my weekly mileage has crossed into double digits. Last Saturday, I did my 2nd 5K of the spring. My time was really slow because of the crowd and because I chose to run and visit with a volunteer running for our organization. It was more about the cause (Susan G. Komen for the Cure) than time anyway.

Here's proof I did it - and proof I've gotten plenty flabby in the past several months.

Oh and that's not my volunteer - this was the last 1/2 mile when she stopped to walk and I tried to pick up the pace.

Remembering Where I Live

Yes I'm a mega-blogger today. But it was these 3 events that prompted me to start recording more than refurbishing a house. Living in my neighborhood is what making a home is all about.

After Thurs. and Fri., I was, quite frankly, enamored with my neighborhood. No one had stolen the box of giveaway stuff I left on the front porch or the rocker sitting out there either. People knew me, people came to visit, we're planning a potluck meet 'n greet in the park on Sat.

But, I've got so much to learn about living in the place I really live.

Saturday night I was all up in the bed with my laptop on, working on a running schedule. About 11 p.m. hear some rapid gunfire (after imitating to some folks, I think it was semi-automatic). Then soon after, another round, then another. It sounded like it was coming from behind my house - toward the elementary school which is also on a sketchy corner that seems to play host to prostitutes and dealers. I decided to call the police to describe what I was hearing. Then a few minutes after, the next round sounded a tad closer. (my dog was snoring loudly through the whole thing)

I felt a little silly, but thought how crappy it would be to have a stray bullet hit me in the head, so I moved down on the floor and kept working. Then there was a much closer-sounding round of fire and I got nervous.

A couple of minutes later, the neighbor's dog started barking crazily, and even old Ellie Mae lifted her head and perked up her ears. I thought I heard something metal banging right behind the house. I crept to the back and turned on the floodlight into the backyard, but didn't see anything amiss.

I eventually heard a lot of sirens and no more gunfire, so I went to sleep. It wasn't until the next morning, when I went to let the dog into the back yard, that I noticed the fence gate standing wide open. I thought the storms had blown it until I looked to see the gate on the opposite side of the house standing open to. Only then did it hit me that someone - the one shooting? the one being shot at? both? had run right through my back yard and past my bedroom window.

Sunday afternoon I learned from a neighbor that someone had been found shot on the corner, 3 houses down from me. I can't find it in the news since there were more tornados Sun. a.m.

Funny, that driving home from a friend's house on Sat., I was working on memorizing verses from Isaiah 58 - that real spirituality isn't fasting, but spending your life on breaking oppression and doing away with injustice and caring for the needs of the hungry, homeless, naked, and all others living in the general human condition. The specific promise I kept repeating was "then your righteousness will go before you and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard." It was a promise He kept within hours!

It makes me a little afraid to have it so close. It makes me a lot mad. Of course this had to do with drugs: dealing them, stealing for them, something. And my neighborhood doesn't belong to those dealers. It makes me a tad wiser to not feel silly moving away from the windows when I hear gunfire. It makes me wonder how to be a good neighbor.

What is That Strange White Woman Doing Now?

OK no one actually said those words to me on Friday, but there's no way my neighbors weren't thinking it.

See I decided to take my dog out to walk around the block a couple of times when I got home from the gym and from work. Since I was staying in view of the house, I just locked the outside door (a wrought iron door with a screen) using my single spare key and dropped it into the pouch on the inside of my shorts.

About 2/3's of the way around the block, I felt for the key. No key. Shook out the pocket. Nothing. Wiggled the running shorts around. Nada.

So for the next hour I walked in circles around the median park in the middle of the street, bent over and staring at the ground and hoping to catch sight of a glint of metal. On the 3rd time around, I put the very bored dog in the backyard. At least 4 neighbors asked if I was ok and where my dog was.

It was great to know they were watching and were concerned about me. It was embarassing to admit what a dingbat I was.

And lest you worry, I didn't find the key in the street and had to force open a window to the laundry porch to retrieve another spare key that is no longer hanging within reach of that window. (this is not good news, security-wise). A little while later, I discovered the missing key lodged inside the elastic lining of my running shorts.

Neighborly Visits

Thursday was a banner day. Miss Mamie called from next door and asked to come over to see the house and visit. I've been inviting her for weeks, but so far she's only wanted me to come in her house. She's 74, never married or had children. She is faithful to her Council on Aging and AARP meetings and events, church, and the annual family homecoming south of the city. She listens to the Braves, but isn't so sure about going to a game with me.

Like everyone else on the street, she always wants to know how my parents are and when they will be back. In particular, we've got a couple of projects for my dad to do on her house. We talked about getting our yards mowed, fencing off the opening in her back fence to stop people cutting through and other neighborly stuff. We even talked a little politics.

I'm looking forward to knowing Miss Mamie better. She moved onto this street in the early 60's at the height of the civil rights movement in Atlanta. It was previously a predominantly white neighborhood. I want to know what it was like for her, how the neighborhood changed, what she experienced.