Well, it's been about 10 weeks since I found a golf ball while running, last reported on here. On this run on Monday I also found a dollar bill, at a separate location, so I was very blessed indeed.
For a caption, I can employ the very same text I used in December, only changing the day of the week and the name of the road:
TuesdayMonday along the Clay Hill RoadAntrim Church Road, just inside the fence line of a cattle pasture. A couple homes semi-close but nothing right there...other than the road and the pasture. No proximate back yard that could have served as a practice tee. And no golf courses within 5 miles.
Again, the proliferation of lost golf balls mystifies me...yet I get a strange tingle, a sort of manly surge, whenever I find one. I look around furtively to see if anyone's watching before I pocket my prize; I put it in my breast pocket, close to my heart. I wonder how a golf club would feel in my hands, how it'd feel to tee off. How I would speed across the course in my golf cart, passing sand traps and trees as though they were standing still. I'd get out of my cart at the green, and walk reverently across the smooth, silky, luxurious living carpet. Then I'd putt, and putt again and again, until I just didn't want to putt anymore.
Then I shake my head to clear the delirium and resume my Ultrarunning training.