Every morning Charlie and I hit the Stairs. It’s a beautiful ravine behind my house.
We’ve met the Regulars. Well, we’ve become the Regulars. I come to anticipate the breathless good mornings, the quickly uttered encouragement as we pass each other on the various ups and downs. There’s the Trip Step, we call it. Invariably someone catches their runner on the nail protruding on Step Fifteen. We all say in various sentences and with varying degrees of embarrassment and humour “We gotta bring a hammer…! Next Time!” There’s the little rocks left at the top in Piles of Ten. People sporting them in their pockets like peanuts in the mouth of squirrels. All bumpy and protruding out of their lycra gear. Loving the ritual of placing Another One at the top. A Victory Stone.
One man in particular is a unique Stair Person. He’s someone you see at every beach. He’s the guy who you admire and are a little incredulous of. He has mastered the art of “Doing You”. He’s shirtless and shoeless. He does his yoga and push ups on the first platform. Charlie and I have to wait behind him both breathless and panting as he finishes his pushups. Every time he says “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Hmmm…pretty sure you did, my friend.
The Stairs wouldn’t be the Same without him. He’s a Little Extra for sure. But he adds Flavour. He gives me a chuckle. He also lets me fly my Freak Flag a little More Wildly too. Life is boring if the Only People we have around us are Vanilla Flavoured.
Here’s to all Freak Flag Flyers. Keep Doing You.
Love Ya All. Go Get Em. Onward and Upward.