Relatively Minor
Laughter does not have to come from a major source. It could indeed be ... relatively minor.
A bill to be grateful for
Life is full of bills – itemized accounts of the separate costs of goods sold, services performed, or work done. They usually end up in our mailboxes at the end of the month, often causing stress and anxiety. Another meaning of the word “bill” – a draft of a law presented to a legislature for enactment – can often stir up controversy and opposition.
Interestingly, even the beak of a bird is referred to as a bill. Imagine a bird picking up a $20 bill; it would carry that bill in its bill, resulting in a double billing of sorts. On a lighter note, many men named William prefer to be called Bill.
I owe a debt of gratitude to the Bill I met just feet from the finish of the Des Moines Women’s 10K a few Sundays ago. Celebrating the strength and determination of women, I would receive a medal upon completion of the 6.2-mile distance.
Standing in a crowd full of women of all shapes and sizes, packed like sardines, I set my watch and anxiously awaited the starting bell. Promptly at 8 a.m., we made our way out of the starting chute and turned a hard right to enter the course. Planning to walk the race, I searched my musical device for a song with a good beat to lift my cadence. Faster athletes passed on either side to leave me in the dust. There was a roller coaster ride at the beginning of the route with steep hills and deep descents. The miles went quickly as we made our way toward the trail system and completed a loop around Grays Lake.
I felt pretty good throughout the first half of the race until my lower back began to tighten, affecting the control of my legs. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other when I continued along the route through Waterworks Park. Turning onto the last straightaway, I saw numerous fans clapping and cheering racers toward the end. Exhilarated to almost be done, yet too exhausted to make a run for it, I turned the corner into the chute. Suddenly, a voice inside my head warned me to find something to grab hold of. I reached into the air just as my legs collapsed, and I fell flat onto the concrete.
I will be eternally grateful to the bill at the end of my baseball cap for cushioning my fall. In spite of trying to make a minor impression on the ground, medical professionals pulled me up and escorted me across the finish line.
This is the 100th post of my Relatively Minor column.
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