There is this gentleman in our neighborhood I see at various times while driving. If I were to guess his age, I'd say somewhere between 25-32(ish). He has a full, untrimmed beard: his head has a close to scalp cut. He doesn't wear official running clothes. I often see him with long shorts, or cut off pants, ratty t-shirt, black socks and curious shoes. I think they're really old; either shoes he wears to work, or running shoes that are more than 12 years old.
His running pace is slow, plodding, thoughtful. He's not training for a race. He is always holding something in his hand.
It's a holy book. I make no assumptions of bible, psalm or Koran. The book is weathered, older than his shoes. It's small enough to be held open in one hand. He reads a little, then refocuses his eyes on the pavement for a few strides. Returning back to the book, he might be reading more, or he may be checking the words as he tries to memorize the passage.
He runs in all times of day, in all kinds of weather. Hi space never changes, his hand never empty. He frequents the same sidewalks. Perhaps he keeps the same route to safely return to the book. Does he know the cracks and uneven slates of sidewalk as well as he knows that book?
When I first noticed his regular appearance in the neighborhood, I thought of Forrest Gump.
Is he running with, for, or about devotion? Is running to be saved?
#25 of 90in90 for #LUBlogTribe
February 3, 2017.
Today, I learned his name.