Glazed Donut Monster

There are stories they tell you about your childhood. Stories you'd perhaps rather not hear. At least in public. "Remember the time when _____ did _______?" hahahahaha.

Sigh.

My loving big brother, Clint, had one he liked to tell about me. Not a story so much, I suppose, as a description. Apparently when I was a little boy my nose ran a lot, and inspired Clint to call me the Glazed Donut Monster. Whenever he'd tell people that, holding out his arms like Frankenstein's monster and wiping his nose, his eyes crossing and mouth wide open, he and they would share a good laugh.

I'm over it.  Really.

So, for the past couple days I've been struggling with a bit of a cold Denise was thoughtful enough to share with me. Nothing serious. Started with a scratchy throat. Moved up to congestion in my head along with a throbbing headache that had me considering laying my head on the train tracks visible from my desk at work. Then, a slight fever and cough.

Last night Denise, being the fantastic wife that she is, whipped up some delicious chicken soup - because that does, in fact, cure most everything, and basically treated me like a king...sending me to bed early with my favorite blanket and  a really nice pill that allowed me to sleep through the night. The dreams were a bit odd (something about riding bikes through a hotel) but, I did wake up feeling much, much better.

For the first time in several days I felt like giving running a go. Just a four mile jog down to Point State Park and back. Maybe it would rejuvenate me.

Off I went, listening to Em and Sam's podcast (which I highly recommend, by the way) and digging the cool fall weather. It was a magical morning indeed. The leaves are starting to change, painting my route with a cozy mix of maroons, oranges and yellows, filling the air with that unique smell of thank god summer's over.  A couple geese yelled at each other under the 16th Street Bridge. The homeless couple who live in a shiny red tent on the Three Rivers Trail even crawled out and went for a walk, laughing to each other about some private joke.

My pace was nothing to boast about...around 9:15/mile, but I was thrilled to be out. On my previous outing, I'd had to walk about 1/2 the time due to fatigue. Today, I felt great.

I rounded the fountain at the point, and reached for the tissues I'd stuffed in my hoodie pocket. They weren't there, of course, because I had not stuffed them in my hoodie pocket. I laughed at my mindlessness and sniffed.

About half a mile from the David Lawrence Convention Center, I gave up on sniffing and wiped my nose with my hand. The snot was flowing quite freely now. But, my legs were re-energized, my heart was at a good rate and, I was breathing better than I had all week - probably because my nose was running.

Heading down Railroad Street, a brief sprinkle patted things down in The Strip. I passed a family riding rented bikes, the mom frantically seeking the Trail, dad cursing and looking at his watch, the three kids wondering where their phones were. Mucus and sweat mingling on my upper lip like old friends.  My hoodie sleeve was covered in snot. I was past caring. And done wiping. I could breath and I didn't care who knew it.

The snot flowed. The sun came out. The heaven's opened. The angels sang. I felt like a brand new guy.

So, yes, Clint, this morning I was once again the Glazed Donut Monster. And damned proud of it.