They are definitely winning the race I think...(say it with me now) the rat race. No, really I'm just kidding. I have no way of knowing what is inspiring people to race walk down the street. But, it feels harried, the energy emanating off these souls as they propel themselves along. For all I know the speed of their pace may be masking complete tranquility. (Prolly not.) But, I have my own pace and I like it. It works for me. I hope theirs works for them.
On 15th Street just north of the train station and five blocks into my walk I can see the race-walkers navigating around the homeless man that I help support. He stands in the middle of the sidewalk and says, "change please, change" and holds a beat up looking Starbucks cup. As I approach him I pull off my right hand glove so that I can dig out the coins from my pocket. He never smiles at me or speaks. But, I smile at him and touch his forearm when I drop my change. I call him brother. I'm not sure that 70 cents 3 times a week entitles me to more than the nod that he gives me.
When I get to Lafayette Square the bus is not there. I take my usual place on the chain that goes around the park. It's kind of a long wait. The waiting-on-the-bus-to-get-there crowd swells and swells. Somewhere along H Street there has got to be an X2 bus running late. It is cold as ish which makes some in the crowd noticeably impatient. I pay particular attention to Lauren Hill's voice singing the Doo Wop song. Letting my body feel the song means that I don't feel the cold so much.
Of course the bus comes. Actually, 2 buses come because I have guessed correctly that there's a bus running late. Everyone gets on the lead bus. It is one of the new shiny buses they have finally designated for the X2 line. And I do mean finally. The bus behind is old and beat up looking. I get on that one. Most everyone else chooses new and shiny. My bus pulls immediately away. I feel triumphant. This bus is the one that has got to make up time.
There should have been lots of folks waiting for this late bus. Oddly, it never gets really crowded. I get to my stop having read 19 pages of the book I'm carrying with me now. Coleman Hawkins carries me the 5 block walk to my front door. Essence of Jazz is such a strange tune and oddly hypnotic. I chuckle at the weirdness of it as I put the key in the door. It's 7:05.
I love coming home.
