The Clumsy Interloper

I set off at 6:15AM from Riverview Park. The first 30 minutes are a familiar asphalt path that hugs the Rivanna river. I walk with purpose, breathing deep the cool morning air and eagerly nodding at all joggers traveling in the opposite direction. Once I near Cosner Brothers Body Shop at the 250 bridge I start to see clusters of tents along the bank. They are forlorn structures, buttressed by duct taped fiberglass tent poles and surrounded by the detritus of survival – water jugs, 5 gallon buckets and duffel bags peaking out from under tarps. I count 10 such tents in a span of 100 yards. My heart aches as my eyes meet with a couple, mid-30’s, ragged and bleary eyed, emerging from their tent to start their day. We exchange polite smiles and “g’mornins” but under the social nicety there feels like a chasm of unsaid emotions. This is a desperate, grinding existence in the midst of Starbucks fueled, Apple watched prevailing normalcy – but never the two shall meet. There are certain local right wing media hacks (30k or every day) who wring their hands about aggressive panhandling on the Downtown Mall and offer dehumanizing solutions to deal with this “issue”. If you really love CVille, I would encourage you open your heart to your fellow man and cultivate a wider view of the collective civic good. The Rivanna Trail is an excursion for some, but a way of life for others.

Holmes Avenue @ 7:23AM (3.5 miles)

MK and I lived one block away from this crossing when we were dating back in 2011-2012. She had a Labrador-Pit mix named Sable that I would walk along this stretch of the trail. On this morning, I am struck by the visceral nature of my memories as I can visualize Sable cocking her head at an errant sound or bounding up a steep embankment. I would have similar sensations at my old job when I would turn over student apartments and walk into a bedroom I lived in 15 years earlier. I would sit on the floor in a quiet and freshly painted room and by osmosis experience my early-twenties again. The brain is a nostalgia junky who just needs an old location and some peace.

7:55AM – 10,000 Steps

Charlottesville High School @ 8:18AM (5.9 miles)

After I cross over 250 at Hydraulic I see a touching moment – a father instructing his son on proper stance while throwing a frisbee on the disc golf course. As I pass by the father looks up at me and I smile at him. We give each other the knowing Dad nod. When my daughters ask me something consequential about the nature of the world I channel Mr. Miyagi and say something like “Lie Only Become Truth If Person Wants To Believe It” or “Never Put Passion In Front Of Principle. Even If You Win, You Lose”. They invariably scrunch up their faces, sigh loudly and call me weird. I love being a Dad.

Bodos on Emmett @ 9:00AM (7.3 miles)                                 

It seems intentional that the Rivanna Trail has an urban cut through that passes immediately next to a Bodo’s Bagels. If the Rivanna Trail is the aorta of Charlottesville, then Bodos is the heartbeat. I tuck into line with my fellow C-Villians and apologize with knowing eye contact about the funk I must be emitting. The air conditioning feels indulgent. I get to the register and joyfully emote “One everything with Lox and Cream Cheese and a large water, please and thank you”. I blissfully demolish my nosh in the name of trail fuel.

10:00AM – 20,000 Steps

There is a food truck behind Super Amanecer called El Catrachito Feliz which looked, and smelled, amazing. El Catrachito (the diminutive of “catrachos” is the nickname for Hondurans derived from a victorious 19^th century general). I couldn’t abide by a second breakfast with 13 more miles left but I put a mental pin in this one.

Behind Disharoon Park on Old Ivy @ 10:10AM (10.0 miles)

I plop down on a bench on Old Ivy Road across the street from University Village. The heat is beginning to become a factor as the comfortable early hours of the day have burnt up and sips of water now feel more precious. A few months ago my parents toured a condominium at University Village, a 55 years of age and older community, as a possible landing place for the one that outlives the other. It’s a morbid but necessary exercise to endeavor once you enter your eighth decade of existence. I tug at some beef jerky, stare off into the middle distance and think about medication schedules, cognitive decline, legacies, eulogies, estate liquidations and the inevitable emptiness I will face. It then dawns on me that I will be eligible to live in University Village in 12 years. In times like these I wish something unexpected like the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile speeding down Old Ivy would happen and inject some levity, but alas it’s just me and the march of time.

NEXT: The Charlottesville Loop (Rivanna Trail): Home Stretch