In Memory of Our Fallen Heroes. Fuzz Run Pictorial Muse.

On the eve of the 10th Anniversary of 9/11, I ran the Fuzz Run in Covington.  I saw lots of familiar faces. And lots of small town reverence for public servants who daily put their lives at risk.

And reverence for those who went to work one September morning and never returned home.

So I bumped this post ahead of my regular Saturday @MorganCoHs Friday Night Lights.

Because this was a spectacular day, in our spectacular country — for a lady with a bum right knee and a smart phone camera.

6:30 a.m.

I broke it to Tebow, “I’m going solo.”

Nothing warms my heart like a box of spankin’ new safety pins.

Saw Kim, Dennis, Kingsley and Clark Sitzmann. Got a terribly cute picture of them which I erased. Hate that!

The Sitzmanns ran  this morning in spite of travelling to Monticello last night watching the Bulldogs win.

Woo! <<Stomp feet. Clap hands.>>

I stretched my chronically tight legs….then meandered on.

Another heart-warmer for any runner, a porta potty with no line.

Tons of children showed up for the Fuzz Run Fun Run. Say that six times fast.

Finally, it was time for the 5K to start.

Heard a “Hey, Jamie.”

Beth Coody and Lindsay Peaster (also at the game last night).

In the interest of journalistic integrity over artistic integrity, thought I would share they wore the cutest pink tops.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked around to see Rodney Whittaker darting through the crowd to the front of the pack where he should be. Not back in the Pokey Puppy Pack with me.

That first mile was pretty much uphill, then it was a gradual downhill for most of the race.

After Mile 2, I looked across the crowd and thought “that looks like Terry Massey.” But it couldn’t be the Honorable Terry Massey because this is a footrace.

Saints preserve us. It was he. We ran for a while.

I stopped to take this picture. And he ran by.

See evidence that it was Terry and that he passed me — darn him.

That’s okay. I had about half a mile to catch him.

That is… till I had to stop and take another picture.

Rodney and his son, Blake. Well-rested after finishing an hour and half before me.

Terry finished about 10 seconds ahead of me. (Not that I watched him run under the clock or anything.)

That’s okay, it’s best not to sprint past him and keep on his good side. You never know when I might get a speeding ticket on I-20 through Conyers.

It was great day to be grateful for family, friends and a bad knee that still lets me run on an early fall Saturday morning in September.

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