Sunday, March 01, 2009

Ah, Pierre, you shouldn't have...

No, really. No one wants to see a 70 year old man fold in half and touch his nose to his knees (and, he let me know, that he could have contorted himself more fantastically right there in front of the "Grind" coffee shop, but he wasn't wearing the right clothes to get the job done).

While I didn't hit the trails yesterday, I did wake up early and run around suburbia in order to get in my daily run. In the last leg of the run, I took an extended break at the Grind - the local coffee dive - and met with my "girz" for our once a month chat 'n pray.

Afterward, I took a few minutes to stretch before running the last two miles of my run. That is when I met Pierre. He looked like this younger version of Jack Lalanne. (When I say young, I mean the "70 years young" look.)

Speaking in a lovely accent, French I suppose, Pierre told me that he was an accomplished yogi. When he was younger and living in Monterrey, he sudied two and three times a week from an infamous yogi.

"Oh, so can you wrap your leg behind your head?"

"No, not in these clothes. But if I had on the proper attire..."

I was a little disappointed that I wouldn't get to see the entire show, but that thought dissolved as Pierre pulled in close.

"I am a psychologist. Where do you live?"

"I live in this area - a few miles from here."

Pierre came in closer. He paused to read the caption on my sweatshirt. I explained it was from a church camp.

"Church, too? Well, you are the compete package, then. You and I would have been perfect together. A perfect match."

As we chatted about this and that, I tried not to be distracted by the neatly trimmed forest of ear and nose hair that encroached proper ear and nose boundaries.

"And no children, I suppose?"

"Actually, I have four daughters."

"Well, then, that is something else we have in common! I also have four daughters. The youngest, she is 23 and a UC Davis graduate."

"Wow! That's wonderful. You must be very proud. Do your daughters live close?"

"Ah..."

His pause was pregnant with regret. I wondered about his past - a life lived half a century ago - that included yogi study and psychology and the Monterrey coast.

"Well, my children do not live close. My children, they are divorced, I am very sad to say, and living here and there. But who am I to judge as I also am divorced. You understand, as I assume you are also divorced."

"But I'm not divorced. I'm married; I just don't wear my ring when I am running because my hands swell when I run."

"You tease a man, so, and give him false hopes! You are married!"

We laughed uncomfortably.

"I'll let you run home now. And I promise I will not run after you."

I didn't look back to see if he was following me.

7 comments:

Karen said...

Beautiful description of the old lech! I can see him clearly. If I were you, I'd run fast. LOL

Jane D. said...

A perfect match.

BOL!!!

iron girl traveling said...

I'm sure the bear would have been sprinting whether uphill or down on that day!!!

Jerolyn Bogear said...

Oh my goodness. I saw you two talking. If I'd known he was hitting on you, I'd have jumped in. Sorry. We'll escort you out of Grind next month.

bluesugarpoet said...

Thinking about getting a tattoo on my ring finger; that might solve this type of problem!

Catvibe said...

I love it! A wonderful old dude for sure. Somehow missed your last post, but now catching up. Loved that one too. It is very cool that you are such a dedicated runner. Good girl! I should take some inspiration from you!

pjd said...

Terrific vignette. A little embellishment here or there, a little more rumination on "what might have been" or possibly "what could yet be" and you would have a great short story. I mean, I don't much care for the old creep, but at least he has a good eye.