"You look like Kenny Rogers with that beard," his wife said one afternoon.
"That's a compliment," he replied.
"I meant to say you look like Willie Nelson."
"Still a compliment."
"You don't wear isolation well."
He thought about that. "Does anyone?"
Despite obsessive hand-washing, mask-wearing, and paying close attention to social distancing, he finally drew the covid short straw. The moment after he had received the first dose of the vaccine, he actually said out loud, "I made it!" He knew better. Fortunately, the man had only mild symptoms, with night sweats being the worst. He complained about them to his wife once.
"Nights sweats are a nuisance. Being on a vent is horrific. Don't let isolation steal your perspective." Fortunately, she doesn't let her family feel sorry for themselves. Ever. Perspective is important.
Over the last decade, the man had developed an affinity for trail running. For years, he'd run as his main source of exercise and stress release, but he was late to the trail scene. Once the man started, he knew it'd be his favorite. A state like Arkansas has an abundance of trails to explore.
There's the Allsopp Trail that winds through the historic Hillcrest neighborhood in central Arkansas. Burns Park has miles of beautiful paths and it's easy to get deep enough to avoid hearing the commotion of Interstate 40. The Ouachita Trail stands as one of the best in the country, starting at Pinnacle Mountain and curving through Oklahoma. The spillway trailhead remains a favorite. Hot Springs has its network, and so does northwest Arkansas. There's no need to skimp on variety.
Winter was his favorite trail season. The crunch of leaves, breath rising as white vapor, morning skies crystal clear all pulled at different corners of his soul. The last trail race he had run was the Swamp Stomper 25K outside Memphis in the beautiful Meeman-Shelby Forest. It's the perfect pandemic exercise. With a masked-up start, the man easily created distance between himself and the other runners. Soon, he was all alone on the trail. He wasn't in the front of the pack. He wasn't in the back, either. He held the center.
The first five miles of the race were new, beautiful, exhilarating. He took in the scenery, silently thanking God for the opportunity to be outdoors with yellow-green swamp to his left and old-growth forest to his right. The next five miles, his mind wandered. The scenery blended, all becoming lost to the background of his breathing, to the blur of repetition. The final five miles focused on perseverance and endurance. He wanted to get to its conclusion, not to falter, not to fail.
Sitting in his bedroom chair one day of isolation, he thought about that race. His family had tested negative and he was thankful for that. It was also cause for him to double down on staying clear of them. So he sat in his chair facing east, glimpsing the rising sun, wondering about the noise downstairs, reading his books, trying to work remotely.
His wife dropped food at the door and texted him. "Here's your breakfast. Bowl of Cheerios and coffee. I feel like I married Mr. Rogers."
"I've been eating Cheerios since sixth grade. If it ain't broke, don't fix it." He could hear her roll her eyes. "I appreciate you helping me, though."
"It's what I signed on for," she texted back.
"That sounds like you joined the military or something."
"It feels that way sometimes. Just get better. We miss you."
Like the miles of that trail race, the first few days of isolation were new and enticing. He mapped out his strategy: Clean the closet, get caught up on reading, binge-watch shows he had wanted to see. Rest.
After a few days, the newness faded. His days became patterned and the walls blended with the ceiling. He strapped his Garmin to his wrist and tried to pace one full mile in his room each day. He lost interest in the shows. Work kept him busy, but it was nothing like the real thing.
The last few days were built on perseverance. He reminded himself how fortunate he was to not be worse off as so many found themselves with this virus. He climbed onto the roof to get some fresh air. Anything to pass time, to get to the finish line.
The time in isolation, though simple compared to so many, allowed him the chance to recalibrate. He had never taken for granted the small things in life, but now he found he longed for them.
Upon release, he reflected on the almost two-week isolation. He had watched every sunrise from his window and then, at the end of the day, turned and caught every sunset. He paced his small miles and changed his sweat-soaked sheets. He had his son sneak a bottle of Jack Daniel's past his wife to help soothe his sore throat. At least, that's what he told himself.
On his final quarantine day, the local news reported that 5,000 Arkansans had died from covid since the beginning of the pandemic. A horrible milestone had been reached. It made him pause and think about his wife's rejoinders about perspective.
Such is the glory of life. Most likely, we won't be at the front of the pack or even last in line. Most likely, we'll command the center and enjoy the exhilaration, dip into patterns and fight to hold on when needed. And when others fall, we'll recognize that our own time will come someday.
In the meantime, we will enjoy our simple freedom, whisper a quiet prayer for those who are suffering, and focus on the trail ahead.
Steve Straessle, whose column appears every other Saturday, is the principal of Little Rock Catholic High School for Boys. You can reach him at [email protected]. Find him on Twitter @steve_straessle.