The Whole World
Gearing up for my Mt. Whitney run next week I decided to go on a nice, easy five mile run after work yesterday. The route I took skirts a local golf course and lazily snakes through a quiet residential neighborhood. At roughly the four mile mark in my run I saw a woman approaching me on the sidewalk pushing a stroller. As I neared her I noticed that she was sporting a pair of old radio headphones with antennas extended, the kind thing you would commonly see people wearing in the 70′s, and she was clearly rocking out to something motivating.
As the distance between us quickly closed I could make out that she was the grandmotherly sort, pushing mid-sixties, yet doing so in style with brightly colored clothes and a skip in her step. I was close enough to make out the smile wrinkles in her cheeks, and could now very clearly hear her loudly belting out the tune “He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands”, with one hand pushing the stroller while the other wildly circled above her head as if she were swatting away at an unusually persistent dive bombing insect.
Looking down as we passed I saw a small dog, possibly a Yorkshire Terrier, strapped into the five-point harness of the stroller, wearing a bonnet and a pacifier strapped around its neck.
Mind. Blown.
