I enjoyed my Friday night run through A. A. MacLean Park so much, I decided to return early Saturday morning.
I had to get up at 5 a.m. because Ryan needed to be at work at the crack of dawn. I’m grateful we go to hang out and shoot the shit after I got off work, but holy crap, man, getting up at 5 a.m. freakin’ sucks.
So we left his house after the babysitter showed up and went to Buc-ee’s. I avoided getting a breakfast burrito called The Beast after Ryan warned me that it would “give me the shits.” So I got a corisant sandwich and some coffee. I gave Ryan a quick, manly hug in the parking lot before he took off on his bike toward work.
Me and that sonfoabitch always have a great time hanging out.
Back on the trail
I decided to take a leisurely stroll through the trails, instead of running. I wasn’t sure of the terrain and I didn’t want to miss anything along the way. Plus, my legs were still sore from the previous day’s run.
I was brimming with chemical confidence and caffeine. The birdies were chirping, the squirrels were rustling, and somewhere a cow was mooing like he was being castrated. It was nice to get away from the all-too-familiar sounds of daily human activity. No car traffic, no people yelling or laughing. Just me and nature. For awhile, I didn’t even talk to myself, which I’m oft to do, because I didn’t want to spoil the serenity.
I have seen enough 80s slasher flicks to know better than to cross over a path where caution tape used to hang. But I said “screw it” and went ahead anyway. Spoiler alert: I didn’t get murdered by an axe-wielding psychopath. But I did find a tree that’s apparently owned by the President of the United States.
Walking down the dirt paths put a genuine smile on my face. Like you get when the old lady at work calls you “cutie,” or when you recall a memory of time spent with the ones you love. For me, it was thinking about jumping on the trampoline with my boys. Sure, I get hit in the nuts every single time we play on it, but we all have a great time.
I didn’t have a shit-eating grin, just a sort of tug at the corners of my mouth coupled with a feeling of comfort.
I found myself singing a Blues Brothers song, I think it was the one that goes something like, “Who’s makin’ love to your old lady, while you were out makin’ love?” Let’s see the birdies try to sing that tune. And yes, I did the instrumentals, too.
As I got deeper into the trail, the brush seemed to get thicker. Now, if my years of playing the Final Fantasy games offer any guidance, I thought I was in for a boss fight at the end. If there was background music, it would have grown louder and more menacing the further I got.
Unfortunately, the only thing that was getting menacing was my urge to pee. So, in a way, the boss fight at the end of my walk was with my bladder and the urinal. Good thing I didn’t lose that fight.
Speaking of ol’ Donnie Jay Trump, I saw a couple of creepy photocopies of what looked like a love child between The Donald and Ted Cruz. One was on the back of a park sign, and the other was stuck to the bottom of a fallen log. Judge for yourself:
I also found some very private information, or possibly a rumor, about a certain Noah.
Finally, I found out about a possible new species of animal. At least, according to the modified sign:
Back to the Tundra
My lovely stroll took about an hour. And I killed my cup of coffee about fifteen minutes into it, so I really had to take a wiz by the time I got back to my truck. I’m glad the restrooms were open. Do you ever have one of those pees, where it’s such a relief, you can’t help but audibly sigh? Yeah, that’s what I did. And I couldn’t have cared less if anyone heard me.
I’ll definitely return to this park the next time I visit Lake Jackson. Maybe I’ll get to see a gator or snake.