I was spending Easter weekend with the Lynches in Norfolk, Virginia – my daughter and son-in-law, Lisa, TJ, and grandchildren Mackenzie and Bryson.
I run long distances most mornings – but TJ’s sports are golf, swimming and soccer. He always kids me about my compulsive two and three-hour runs while his household sleeps – and he shows me no pity or praise after I finish running and return home.
Easter Sunday morning I planned to run 20 miles in preparation for a marathon. The folks at “Running, etc.” shop on Colley Avenue had told me about a 10-mile out and back route that I intended to explore that morning. I ran my usual three-mile route through Ghent and to the Waterside via the Battleship and then I ran up to Hampton Boulevard to try the running store’s suggested route.
Somewhere near the Larchmont library was a left turn into the Lockhaven residential area. I was then running on new turf. A powerful thunderstorm suddenly struck and I was drenched – but kept going in the downpour.
I was lost, running in circles and dripping wet.
It was a rainy Sunday morning. No one was on the streets and no cars were moving. I was frustrated not knowing how to get back to Hampton Boulevard.
Finally, in the distance, a SUV was slowly approaching.
Son-in-law, TJ, had been driving home after church services with his mother, Loretta, and visiting uncle from Philadelphia, Jackie. And he coincidently detoured to show show them houses in the upscale neighborhood.
Driving in the pouring rain, they were discussing the plant Loretta had recently purchased. “It’s a Wandering Jew plant*,” she said.
“There’s no such thing,” said TJ.
Then, noticing me in the distance, standing alone, dripping wet and forelorn, hand raised to flag down a car to ask directions, T.J. said, “Look! Now there’s a wandering Jew!”
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*Wikipedia says the Wandering Jew is “a shade-resistent invasive plant.” Gardeners have commented: “definitely a survivor and can take a lot of abuse.”
Running Stories by Jerry Lewis 