My New Running Route

I walk through the gate that separates our section of the neighborhood from the rest. I greet the three guards, "Salamat Pagi" good morning. They flash their smiles - Indonesians have wonderful smiles - and return the greeting. One calls out, "You go jogging?" (his English is much superior to my Indonesian.)

I walk past the grocery store where the parking lot is already buzzing with mopeds and vehicles.

The road is wet and I splash across the giant puddles. The man holding the hose smiles.

I start running through the neighborhood, criss-crossing through the narrow streets. Most of the houses are fenced off from the road with cement barriers nearly as tall as castle walls.

I approach my favorite tree with the vines hanging down. I jump up and swipe at them with the palm of my hand.

Flowers adorn walkways, trees, bushes, gates, and walls. Almost everywhere I look there are flowers of some kind. It is strange to see flowers blooming in cracked pots and growing along crumbling sidewalks. Life and beauty in the midst of disrepair and decay.
My lungs begin to burn. Not from exertion but from the exhaust coming from the cars and modpeds. I get stuck behind a bus. Black smoke plumes from its exhaust pipe. I stop and cover my mouth and nose till it passes.

I feel grit in my teeth when I bite down.
I finish my run by turning at a flower shop. My shoes splash in the puddles. I notice that there are fresh blue hydrangeas. My favorite. They remind me of home. I will be coming back later today ready to bargain.

I slow to a walk. I raise my face to the warm sun which is high in the sky even though it is not yet 9AM. I squint into the brightness and wipe the sweat from my forehead.

It is not my Virginia run by any means. But it is a run. And that is good enough for me.