Well, here we are in 2012. Each year, for me, seems to zoom by rapid-fire in a fast-forward-speed blur of activity. There are times when I actually have to think about what year we are in!
Anyway, being firmly ensconced in middle-age, I have become an old Fuddy Duddy when it comes to New Year’s Eve.
Date on the town with my beautiful wife? Nope. Socializing with friends? Negative. Perhaps a trip to the movies? Not a chance.
Rather, here is a typical New Year’s Eve for Coach Pete:
--Into my pajamas shortly after dinner
--On the couch in the den to read a book
--Still on the couch: Maybe a movie or a TV show with the family
--Still on the couch: Asleep by 9:30 p.m., while the rest of my family stays awake to watch the ball drop on TV
Yeah, I know. A thrill a minute.
Well, New Year’s Eve 2011/2012 was a little different for me, thanks to my good pal and frequent coffee buddy Krys Wasielewski.
While having coffee with Krys last week, I had suggested a New Year’s Day jog. No. He insisted on a Midnight Run. Ugh. No way, I told him. I’ll be in my pajamas. I’ll be asleep.
He was relentless; Krys can be relentless with his ideas. He mapped out a 5-or-so-mile loop in the middle of nowhere, where he and Barbara were visiting friends for the evening – you know, like most people do on New Year’s Eve!
Krys even offered to come and pick me up at home, drive me out to the middle of nowhere for the run, and bring me back home. OK, OK, already! I relented. Sure, I’ll do it, I told him. Then, I summoned my early-morning jogging pal Artie; he had no plans, so he was in. His daughter joined us, as did her friend and her parents, who happen to be good friends of ours as well. OK then! We had an actual group run!
We started at about 11:15 p.m., with the idea of finishing right around midnight. Well, it turned out we were not quite done at midnight. The run turned out to be a bit longer than we thought, closer to 6 miles.
In fact, as the calendar turned from 2011 to 2012, we are on a road -- and the specific spot on that road – that is purported to be haunted by the ghost of a murdered fiddler about 100 years ago. I know. You cannot make this stuff up! We were on the bridge on Fiddlers Bridge Road (what, don’t believe me? Google it for yourself!). We stopped in the pitch-black darkness to see if we could hear a baleful and ghostly serenade from the afterlife.
Nothing. Our headlamps probably spooked the ghost of the ancient fiddler.
Instead, we heard the sound of fireworks from a distance. We wished each other Happy New Year, shaking hands and hugging out there on the relatively warm winter evening. We jogged in, and were greeted by Krys’ wife and friend, where we toasted 2012 with hot chocolate and cookies.
Definitely a memorable way to ring in 2012.
Happy New Year, everyone.
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