Over the last few days I’ve gone for two different runs that are worth describing. The first was in Tennessee, in the countryside north of Chattanooga. From my campground, I took off down a country road at about 7:30 PM. I passed a church, some homes and a few large cattle and crop fields. Some people were out tending to their yards, enjoying the cool air and the evening sun as much as I. There were also a few dogs. I like dogs. Dogs like me. Well, at least most dogs like me. Sometimes I think that some cranky dogs don’t like anyone. So what were cranky dogs doing on my run?

I respect a dog’s right – no, duty – to protect his home. A dog should be able to vocally perform his duty at any range, but physical protection really ought to be contained to the dog’s property. This is my opinion. Evidently dogs in eastern Tennessee do not share my view. Based on a five dog sample size, I proclaim that 100% of all dogs in Tennessee will chase a jogger right down the road. From now on I carry a stick.

The second run took place in Abilene Texas two nights ago (I picked Abilene in honor of Jerry Garcia’s “Loser”). From the Comfort Inn, there is no pedestrian friendly running route. Unless the runner gets creative. The Comfort Inn is only a quarter mile from a Wal-Mart. Actually, it’s a Wal-Mart Supercenter, the grandest of all retail super-tankers. To run the entire perimeter of Wal-Mart AND the adjacent fueling station, Chili’s, Cracker Barrel, nail salon and video store took me an average of about nine minutes, so I’ll call it a mile. The

re were multiple enjoyments with this run. First, it was a run, and I like running. Second, I got to see the reactions of various shoppers and employees as I circuited four or five times. Third, I got to see a few “boondockers,” of which I have been one many times in the past. Boondocking is the practice of parking one’s mobile home in a retail parking lot overnight. A boondockcer is one who boondocks. Seeing a few campers in the lot reminded me of the many nights that Griffin (the dog) and I overnighted in a similar way on our 2002 trip.

When I wrote a few days ago I was hunkered down in a Nashville, enjoying the company of my brother and his wife. I stayed with them for a second day and I had the chance to see the areas where they are thinking to move. Having given the area my coveted stamp of approval, I wish them well in Nashville!

There have recently been a few nasty storms in the eastern central region and my route has been reactionary to the forecast. With storms predicted for north of Tennessee but not south, I headed southwest, along the Natchez Trace parkway. The parkway parallels and at in places crosses a path between central Tennessee and a southern point along the Mississippi river. From what I read, it was initialized by Native Americans and then also used heavily by European settlers. Its use declined significantly with the introduction of steam ships along the Mississippi in the early 1800’s.

The Natchez Trace Parkway is beautiful and unquestionably qualifies as a first-rate wormhole. Although it is less rolling than the Appalachian parkways, the southern portions of the Natchez include swamp lands, and that’s highly cool!

Along the parkway, I stopped for gas in Tupelo. This was intentional as I wanted to see a bit of the city after which one of my favorite bands – Uncle Tupelo – was named. I didn’t get much of a sense for the city, but I was quite thankful that I had stopped. Just as I was filling at the gas station, the wind picked up. And a moment later it was quite dark. Then KABLOOM! Rain and thunder in a big way. I hid under the roofed station, crying and shivering in a corner like a small child. When the storm passed, I regained my composure and announced that what had just happened was but a sprinkle.

I left the Natchez Trace shortly before its terminus, heading west on Interstate 20. I enjoy the “backroads” much more than the interstates, but the weather forecast allowed as though the “getting would be good” to pass through Texas over the next couple days before big weather set in again. So I hauled butt. For me, - for now – hauling butt involves 500+ mile days. I know of others who pride themselves in completing 1,000 mile days; these are called “Iron Butt” rides. I like the idea but(t) I’m not quite there yet.

Two days ago I rode from Western Mississippi to Abilene Texas. For no particular reason, I told myself that, with a full tank of gas, I wouldn’t set foot down in Louisiana. Not that I don’t like the state; I’ve had several memorable (and several non-memorable) experiences in New Orleans. But riding straight through would give me a distance-covering goal. Turns out that several miles in, I decided that I was too hot and stopped to shed a layer. So much for lofty goals.

The most interesting thing to me about east Texas was the wind. Blowing from the southwest, the wind knocked me silly as I headed into it, but at an angle. Leaning to the left (yet not turning) for several hundred miles is a pretty unnerving experience. Also, the wind over time can be loud. I always ear plugs but am now wondering if I can squeeze two into my left ear.

Yesterday I rode from Abilene across I-20, picked up I-10 along the Mexico/US border, through El Paso and into Las Cruces, New Mexico where I found a delightful KOA campground and where I am as I write this.

The ride through West Texas was much more interesting than the prior day’s drive, in part because I’d never seen this part of the country. At just about the point where I-20 ends, mountains spring up out of nowhere. I love mountains and I consider myself an expert on them. As such, I’ve decreed three basic types of big mountains: 1) big cold snowy & icy ones, 2) big sometimes cold tree-covered ones (which may or may not have snow on top) and 3) big often hot barren exposed rock ones. Those in west Texas are of the Type 3 category, one of my favorite three types.

Riding along the border with Mexico was of interest to me. Boarders seem quite arbitrary at times and when I’m near one I ponder how different things really are one side v. the other. Environmentally (assuming away man’s treatment of things), things are probably quite similar. Politically and culturally, things can often be quite different. Noting that it was May 6^th, the day after Cinco de Mayo, I chuckled as I wondered which side of the border had more hungover people.

I saw three signs in Texas that I should share with you:

1) Reminder that Texas is the home of G. W. Bush (actually, many signs announce this);

2) Announcement of an all-you-can-eat drive-through (this works how??. . .) and

3) Announcement of an RV Park with both an ATM machine and a Van Gogh gallery (now that’s full service!).

So it’ll soon be time to pack up and head west some more. I think that I’ve cleared the bad weather and I can take my time over the next 36 hours as I drive to Phoenix to visit my aunt and then board a plane on Wednesday to fly to. . . well, I’ll catch you up on those details next time!