I've recently taken up running. Sometimes I say "again" when I say that, but actually, I've never really been a runner. I take it up every few years and give it up pretty quickly. That I've been doing it a week now is, if not unprecedented, at least unusual. I'm ramping up slowly, with a run-walk program that seems to be about right for my fitness level, and I'm doing it mostly with a friend (sometimes two), which keeps me accountable.
Saturday, though, I was on my own for running. I decided not to do the route I've been doing with my friend, and headed out to the airport, where there's a beautiful flat road that's closed to vehicle traffic during the weekends. It's a small airport, as you might expect, mostly for small planes. There aren't really gates, or the other stuff you expect at a commercial airport. There is, weirdly, an excellent Indian restaurant. And, next weekend, an air show.
As I ran, I was vaguely aware of a plane around, but I wasn't paying attention. Until I heard its engine cut out, and panicked. I scanned the sky and found the plane just as the engine noise restarted — it was a biplane, and it was doing tricks (practicing for next weekend, I assume). And it was AMAZING. Other people probably saw it, too, but I couldn't see them. The plane did swirly loops and twisty barrel rolls and scary freefalls, the whole time I ran and walked. When necessary, I turned around and walked backwards on the walking parts to watch better.
As I got closer to my car, I saw the only other person I saw the whole time. I stopped her on her walk to be sure she saw her own private airshow, too.