The day is finally here – the solar eclipse.  I’ve gone back and forth on interest, initially trying to secure a campsite.  That was nearly a year ago, and nothing was available.  I have enough trouble dealing with a concert crowd, let alone the masses associated with this event, so I ultimately decided to stay home and watch it on T.V.  I’m not in the path of totality, but even 99% apparently isn’t good enough.  I have no doubt that those who took the trouble to get to 100% will have the experience of a lifetime, and those of us that didn’t take the trouble will regret it the rest of our lives.  The bottom line is that I’m not an outdoors-man, and this proves it.  I got a good night’s sleep, will not have to deal with traffic jams, and didn’t spend money on glasses that none of us are sure will really work.

The first thing that came to mind was waiting for the sun to rise on Haleakala on Maui.  We had gotten up at 3 a.m., rode in a van with several other tourists, and arrived on top just before sunrise.  It was cold and we were unprepared, having grabbed some hotel towels on the way out the door.  It was the longest 15 minutes of my life in the darkness waiting for that first sliver of light over the  volcano.  I was jumping up and down, trying to keep warm, and had a towel wrapped around my ears to protect them from the biting winds.  Everyone told us it was a must-do experience – nature at its finest.  I don’t have much patience and the moment turned out to be uneventful for me.  I had a feeling that the eclipse would be equally disappointing for me, so it was never on my bucket list, despite that early attempt to seek totality.

I’ll be listening to “Dark Side of the Moon” and scientifically observing the behavior of our pets during this experience.  I also may decide to go outside and do a selfie to mark the occasion.  The reverse lens feature should also allow me to view some of the transition without damaging my eyes.  From the aerial views shown on the local news station, it all looks like a giant tailgate party, and I’m happy not to be part of it.  It is amazing that all the timing of the event has been so accurate, as the moon begins its journey across the sun as calculated.  The sun seems very intense, as the Pink Floyd classic, originally released in 1973, plays in sync to the growing shadow across the sun.  It all reminds me of a  3-D movie, as everyone adorns their special glasses in anticipation of the next big moment.  It’s hard to imagine that these thin paper viewers can actually protect your eyesight, and many of them unfortunately won’t.

I only ran a little over a mile this morning.  The Hood to Coast countdown clock reads:  3d 18h 37m 45s until race start!  I won’t start my leg for an additional 6 hours, after each of my 5 other van-mates complete their respective segments.  I’ll continue to refrain from longer runs and rest my body until that time arrives.  I’m still a bit stiff and sore from all the preparation for this relay, and I’ll be glad to get it behind me.  Just like Haleakala, and the solar eclipse, I initially wanted to participate but really just want to check-it-off my list of life experiences.   Been there – done that!  The sun is now a shrinking orange crescent, as I continue to watch the television coverage – less than 15 minutes until totality.   “I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.”

The temperature dropped and there was an eerie stillness, but it never got as dark as I expected.  That 1% of sunlight made a definite difference in viewing here relative to totality, but the images of the sun’s corona just outside the black disk of the moon were striking on television.  Those caught in the crowd exodus will tell you it was worth it, but I will always feel that staying home was the right thing for me.  By the way, the dogs seemed unimpressed and hardy stirred a muscle.  I can start planning for the 2024 solar eclipse.  That one will pass through Bloomington, Indiana on April 8th.