The Life of Riley

There was a road race in our downtown area this morning. Hundreds of runners showed up to test their mettle against the hills of our city and the heat (75 but humid.) "It's not the heat...it's the humidity." If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that one...I'd retire. OHHH, I keep forgetting...I'm already retired.

A local up-scale restaurant...The French Laundry puts it on. It is called the Bastille Day race. They greet you in french, make announcements in french...and at the end of the race...you get fresh fruit, and a huge french baguette(bread.)

This older gentlemen shows up at most of the local races. His name is Riley M. He not only dribbles the basketballs the whole way, but also does sort-of a downward juggle. The basketballs move up and down, and from side to side. Amazing. I've probably seen him 10 times, and I've never seen him mess up. Until today. Maybe it's his advancing age...but he lost one of the balls, and lost his rhythm. I not only got the shot and the look on his face...but I was also able to reach out with my foot, and stop the wayward ball. He's not the only one that is semi-coordinated. BOO-YAHHHH!!!

This race that Riley was in today was 3.1 miles long. He also does a well-known race in Flint called the Bobby Crim Road Race. !0 miles long while dribbling the basketballs. I'd like to see one of the Globetrotters try that.

The race downtown brought back memories of the old days when I used to run. I ran this race many times, and even was the race director for a couple of years as a member of the park board...before the restaurant took it over. A lot of work, and a lot of planning. Seeing the runners and the walkers makes me want to hit the streets again.

This is the old part of our small city. Notice the old-time windows hanging over the sidewalk. Also notice the policeman. They smile and put up a good front, but they do not like to close off one of our busiest streets for that amount of time. As the race director...the police chief used to hate to see me walk in the front door of the station. "Oh no...not you again."

It is a nuisance, but to me, it's the events like this that make a small town a great place to live. A dad and his 8 year-old son crossing the finish line. A mom racing while pushing her baby in a stroller. People and families and their dogs out doing things. That's the secret. Fun stuff.

Our favorite sign at the race? Two young boys with fresh mohawk haircuts held it up. RUN DAD RUN !! THERE'S A DINOSAUR BEHIND YOU !! Nice.