Warning: Complaining follows.
I spent 8 hours in the car on Saturday. I pushed myself to get home when I might have been safer pulling over to sleep in a hotel or even in the car. What I looked forward to was sleeping in on Sunday morning.
Chattanooga did not get the memo that I was planning to sleep in. Or, I missed the memo that the Chattanooga Marathon organizers felt it was absolutely necessary to have the loudest available speakers set up directly across the street and start blaring “The Eye of the Tiger” at 6:15AM.
For a moment, I thought I’d been returned to the summer between the 9th and 10th grade during which I saw Rocky III three times. I’d gone to the theater to see E.T. all three times, but it was sold out. I guess it was karma since I had never seen Rocky or Rocky II.
As a side effect, my girlfriends and I learned every word to the song and sang it loudly (and badly) along with the radio whenever it came on. I wonder how much we actually liked the song vs wanted to impress the boys who saw the movie with us? I would bet they were not impressed.
Nor was I at 6:15AM on Sunday morning. After recognizing that no time travel had occurred, I laid in bed thinking it was a car stereo and it would move on quickly. It didn’t move on. I threw back the covers and walked onto the balcony to discover it was an event, not a car.
Frustrated when The Eye of the Tiger gave way to another song at the same volume and recognizing the music wasn’t going to stop any time soon, I took Tisen for his morning walk.
I made a stop to ask my tormentors if they had a noise permit. They claimed they did, although they couldn’t produce it. I walked over to a cop parked at the intersection and he assured me they did have a permit. I really wanted to meet the person who thought that was a good idea, but I kept my mouth shut.
Tisen and I walked down to the river where it was significantly quieter. I debated trying to curl up on a park bench, but decided it was too cold to sleep outside. We made our way back to the loud crowd and squeezed between runners warming up for the run of their lives.
I always wonder about the sanity of a marathon runner. I’ve run a few 10Ks, including one that was part of a triathlon, but I’ve never found any joy in running. I feel even less joy now that being rudely awakened at 6:15AM on Sunday morning is part of the sport.
After our walk, I went up to the roof to try to catch some fall color. I realized it just isn’t peak color yet here. I knew I should have stayed in bed.
It really seems like it would be against the law to start that music at 6:15 am
Yeah. I would have thought so, too.
Pingback: True Colors | nomadicmainstream