Oops I hit the Pause Button

I have been considering writing a post on Time Travel.  Recently, I read several articles about significant historical events that occurred: ex: fifty years ago, twenty-five years ago or on this date in history.  Also, last year I was inundated by notices of my fiftieth high school reunion and I often get notices from a military group about upcoming reunion meetings.  Not to mention that I read Stephen King’s 1963, and Time Traveler’s Wife last year and have just finished Time Travelers Never Die.  My mind has been fixated on Time lately.

1964

I printed Google images from 1963 for ideas; images of President Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, the Beatles, Martin Luther King and the civil rights movement dominate the group.  What do I remember directly about those events and people?  Some fuzzy memories come to mind, but mostly I remember details that I read well after the event.  Clearly my mind was on other things of fleeting importance when I was nineteen.  Getting out of high school, starting college and gaining a sense of independence dominated my 1963 thought processes, not the history being made at the time.  In 1964 I met my future wife and joined the army.  Army life put my life on hold for three years; after my service was completed I concentrated on starting married life and returning to college.  The worldly events of the remaining years of the sixties left very little active memories with me.  I lived in a historical decade without clear recollections of those times.

In Time Travelers Never Die the protagonists visit numerous times and people with historical and scientific importance as the story progress.  They make lists of times and people they want to visit and search for a missing fellow time traveler, who also had interests in specific events and desires to meet important people.  

Current day mural of past event

It would be interesting to go back in time and watch, and learn from the past.  Understanding the causes and motivations would be far more enlightening than reading about it now.  In King’s, 1963, the protagonists want to change history, to stop the assassination.  You can read the story to find out what happened without me spoiling it.  I’ll leave thoughts about changing history to others and wander into a different direction (time-wise).  

In September of 2012 I wrote about a feature of my Time Machine, the OOPS Eliminator.  Version 2 is next with the PAUSE button.  Imagine instead of going back and fixing something you have the opportunity to PAUSE.  Stop and reflect and then act.  Give yourself a few minutes, a day or even several weeks to figure out the problem.  Don’t worry about fixing errors; get it right the first time.  Remove the stress of rushing from your life.

How would you  like an extra hour or day to complete a project?  How would you like to take a break from some task (cleaning the house, the garage, writing a blog or doing your taxes) to have a cup of coffee or go for a walk without a worry about a looming deadline?  

It seems that I have hit the PAUSE button on this blog too long.  What I really need is REVERSE switch so I can complete this blog and post it two weeks ago.  Would be nice.  See you next time.

 


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Runner

Runner - Fiction

Droplets of moisture from fall’s remaining dead leaves fell onto the runner’s lean torso as he sliced through the wooded trail.  Crunching sounds emanated from the trail when his shoes kissed the crushed stone path and created a rhythm that became the metronome of his pace.  Gray fog rolled through the trees and flowed over the path that snaked through the park.  His breath froze in the air with each exhalation. 

 
Feels good. 

The winding trail blocked his view of the few runners who frequented the park.   Those numbers decreased even more drastically since the weather started to turn very cold.  This morning he passed only a solitary pair of runners looping slowly at the trail head.  A nod as he passed them, then they vanished as he moves into the frigid mist that now surrounded him.

Damm peaceful.

He ran up the shallow uphill path on the north side of the park.  Near the crest, at the spot where the city view broke through the trees, he slowed momentarily and glanced at the geometric skyline.  Blurred by the fog it was a mere aberration.  His office and home where out there somewhere, with their distractions and problems.  Sometimes he stopped to pinpoint those locations, they were his travails.

Not today.  No stopping today.

He raced past the peak, without hesitation.  Not today.  No reality today, just the run.  A slug of water and a glance at his watch were the only movements that disrupted his graceful gait.  Faster he strode into the deepening fog.  Sounds of the nearby parkway and of his footfalls muted by the fog that swirled around him eliminated distractions.  Despite, or because of, the lessening visibility he increased his pace without fear.

Soon he would cross a wooden bridge at the five-mile mark.  Deep breathes infused energy into his lungs and heart.  He raced on.

A paved portion would signal the approach of the bridge.  He anticipated the solid path before the spring of the bridge.  Fog fully engulfed the path; the runner could only see an arm’s length ahead. 

I am ready.

Above a soft glow broke through the gray.  Rapidly the fog lifted and transformed the gray into blue as the winter sun began its slow rise over the horizon.  Fresh frost covered the brown foliage, white as snow.  Pavement made its presence felt to the runner.  He ran on.  One last deep breath and then a burning sensation pulsed through his body.  His step faltered.  Pain surged upward from his heart to his shoulder and head.  He stumbled, but his feet keep moving.  The bridge was close, now the concrete below felt alien.  The bridge was ahead.

Got to get across.

Arms and feet danced at jarring angles.  His water bottle slipped from his grasp.  Forward his body wrenched and jerked, with the grace of a marionette.  Forward he continued.  Wooden slats rattled under his feet.  Each board bounced with his footfall and then rebounded with an echo in remembrance of his impact.  One, two, three strides he counted on the bridge.

 

How many more to go?

The runner slowed to a walk as he took his final strides on the bridge.  Two more steps and he dropped to his knees and glanced at his watch.

PR.  Personal record. Take me.  I am done.

 

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