A Stroll in the Park

Our daily early morning run/walk at the Olympic Stadium is a fun way to begin the day and it has turned into quite a ritual. I will explain. The alarm goes off @ 5:08 AM and I wake up, turn the alarm off and say to mom: "Powettchie, another day of our mission has begun, are you going to walk this morning"? Most of the time she says "yes, just give me 5 more minutes". I know what that means so I quietly dress in the dark into my sweaty running Levis that I bought at "Russian Market" brand new for $5.00. But I think they just sewed a "Levi" name tag on them because they really aren't Levi jeans. They don't care about patents or copyrights in Cambodia—you can get a "genuine Rolex" watch for $15.00. Anyway, as I attach my name tag to my sweaty shirt I am reminded that it must be wash day—six days is almost too long. I feel my name tag makes me an "official missionary" and I am then eligible for the protection of angels (D&C 84:88). I then quietly go out to our kitchen where it is very hot and humid (we only have AC in our bedroom) and study Khmai for 10 minutes. Finally, at 5:25 your mother staggers out in her running gear (long pink silk pants with matching top) and we are off! As we leave our gated, guarded complex we check to see if our neighborhood is still intact—yes, we're good because there is the usual pile of new garbage that was thrown there during the night so the rummagers can dig out all the cans, plastic bottles and cardboard before it is hopefully picked up by garbage trucks later in the day. A hundred meters further down the street we see that the "men's" restaurant on the corner is open and the usual 15-20 shirtless men are there eating their rice gruel. On the other side of the street "Grandma Hubbard" has her fire going where she cooks for the "Wat" boys next door. Yes, our neighborhood is getting a good normal start on the day. Oh, and there's "Tinkle" watering his usual column on the "Wat" wall. Actually, there are probably about 15 "Tinkles" that we see every morning on the 500 Meter walk to the Stadium. We enjoy the "wildlife" in our neighborhood and there is one big species of wildlife at the Stadium that I have named "Rattatooie". So far he has seemed to elude the "poachers" and the pot. Well, three minutes into our walk we come to the corner of Sihanouk and St. 163—both busy streets even at 5:30 AM and wait for the walk light to turn green. But I want to tell you that a green walk light gives you, at best, limited protection because no one here stops for red lights! Speaking of lights—a moto just zoomed through the red light without any lights! But we safely cross the street are now walking along the shore line of "Black Water Pond". We have become accustomed to the smell but I much prefer the smell of Uncle Lee's corals. At about this point "Thunder thighs" runs past—a fairly "robust" American woman. I'll catch up to her later as I begin my laps around the stadium. Further on we politely nod "Aarun susa'dey" to our friends at the dimly lit booth where they guard the 220+ motos belonging to those who are exercising. They charge 500 riel (12.5 cents) per moto to park and guard them. We finally enter the running/walking track that is about 1.5 km around. Mom makes me walk with her the first 100 meters until we pass into the dark shadows and out of the rays of the first of only three lights in that 1.5 km circle. I don't know why she makes me walk with her until we are in the dark before I can begin my run but she says she doesn't want "them" to see me leave her unprotected. "Them" refers to the 1,000+ other people walking around the loop. At any rate, I tell mom I love her and that I'll see her in one round. I run about twice as fast as she walks which means I run two rounds and catch her at the beginning of her second round. So, I am off. I run a few minutes and spot "Thunder Thighs" in the distance. I pass her and begin looking for my "running buds" as I turn the corner by the Olympic sized swimming pool. I run quietly, stealthfully, passing the hundreds of people just walking and talking in the dark. Some cut their conversation and speak in "hushed" tones as I pass; I am so—so tall, have such broad shoulders, such light hair—it's like an Angel has just run by them. ( I think I must look a lot like Angel Moroni as he appeared to the Prophet Joseph Smith --JSH 1:32). Many of the people on the track are running at a slow pace and as I pass, some pick up their pace to match mine. This is where I meet my "buds". Some days "Asthma Lung" falls in behind me. He breaths very heavy and yet he keeps up with me for about one round because I can hear him breathing behind me. Then I decide I will test his endurance and I pick up the pace. The breathing gets more intense and then stops. Did he pass out because of over-exertion? I glance back; no, he just gave up. I will now look for "Friendly". He will run beside me and will listen to my limited Khami and respond back in broken English. But he's not much for distance—the most is 2 laps. He's a great friend. Any time now "Hare" will be passing me—yes, I hear him coming now, he's passing me—and there he goes. "See you in about half a lap", I say to myself and sure enough after he is about 40 meters ahead of me his little black head quits bobbing quite as fast and then stops bobbing altogether as he slows to a walk. I keep my steady but powerful pace and pass him but it's only 30 seconds and I hear him again thrashing by me. This happens about three times every morning before he gives up and drops back to a steady walk. But, the other day I met "Kenya". Now, he's a runner! I've only seen him a few times but I'm no match for him. He wears real running gear—you know—Dimie-type stuff. Right off, the first time I saw his stride I knew I was no match for him—smooth graceful strides—so effortless. But, I tell myself, "After all, I'm a 64 year old man and do quite well for my age. I could have easily done that back in my prime".Well, now I'm back to running on my own. I round the bend by black water beach and there he is—Rattatooey! He's down by the water's edge munching on a pile of discarded food remains from the last concert. You see, on the interior of our track there is a big bowl-type stadium that will seat a good 60,000 people. Quite often there are events held here and the concession stands discard some of their scraps over the fence by black water pond. Rattitoey and many of his friends love it. I have other smaller friends along black water pond—sewer gnats. My powerful lungs, perfectly conditioned for endurance, create a major vacuum in the vicinity of my head when I inhale. Sewer gnats, having feasted during the night are enroute home in swarms. I must lower my head and allow my eye lashes to filter out many of the gnats so they aren't inhaled into my mouth. In spite of my precautions, however, I always get some trapped in the inner cavity of my mouth. I must expectorate multiple times as I run by black water pond. But so does everyone else. As I run in the dark I hear the up-beat music of the various exercise groups doing their calisthenics. Most of the groups are up on the rim of the stadium bowl but there are three groups right down close to the track where I run. One group is made up of over 100 people who pay about 2-300 Reil to be part of it. I like their Cambodian music—it grows on you. Then there is the Tykuando Judo-type group that yells "fight commands" as they go through various routines. Finally there is the Japanese group with their swords and their slow, quiet music with very graceful movements. That group is mainly made up of older people. Well, my run is about over—4 rounds. I see your beautiful mother ahead completing her second round. As we go out the gate toward home we say "hi" to "Scales". He has a set of scales on wheels that he rolls into the stadium every day and charges 100 Reil (2.5 cents) for you to weigh yourself. I know my weight—a perfect, trim 188 lbs. We take a different way home to see how the other part of our neighborhood is doing. It takes us past our bakery. We love our bakery—fresh-baked breads and pastries every day. The little gals there love to speak English with us but the first time we stopped they were grossed out by the sweat dripping off my face and arms. So, now I take a wash rag with me when I run so I can keep the sweat from dripping onto their goods. Mom picks an item and then I get my usual foot long hard roll (700 Reil--17 cents). As we near our apartment we see "Coc". He has his cart full of Coconuts and every Saturday we buy one for 2000 Reil (50 cents) and have him chop it perfectly so we can insert a straw through the top and drink the pure coconut juice. Very tasty and very healthy. Drink too much, though, and it will act as a laxative. A typical coconut will give you a good quart of juice. Next to Coc is "Mellon" with his cart full of goods. We yell a cheery "Sui 'sdey as we walk by. As yet we haven't purchased any of his melons. They seem a little expensive--$2.00. Well, by now it is 6:15 and we have witnessed the awakening of our neighborhood. "All is well, all is well". We are safely home, ready for breakfast. Wanna walk with us tomorrow? With love, DAD