I did something a little different this morning.  I decided to take my camera with me on my run.  I didn’t take it with me so that I could shoot pictures of all the crazy animals I encounter on my runs, though I did take a picture of my favorite three-legged/toothless black lab that likes to chase me.  No, I brought the camera for a different reason.

I have written trashy columns in the past, and tried to add a touch of humor to the fact that Sadieville has a littering problem.  This may be the trashiest column yet.  I brought the camera to take pictures of what I get to see every day when I go for my run: trash.

I’ve been letting it get to me lately.  My runs are supposed to make me feel refreshed and new but lately they are making me ill.  Every time I see all the trash I want to puke.  So as a form of therapy, I brought my camera to document the run.  I will decide what to do with the pictures later.

So I am running along, stopping to take pictures of the worst ditches.  I snap a shot of the couch and scattered cushions along the creek, the garbage piled near an underground drainage pipe, capture a few tires…and then I see it.

It sat there in the distance along the road like a tidy little Christmas gift.  As I approached I snapped a few pictures, making sure you could see WAL-MART written on the side.  When I reached it I looked down and shook my head.  It was another trash bomb.

I am skeptical of anyone who has a clean car because I fear they are a ‘trash bomber’.  You know, one of those litter-pigs (‘litterbug’ is too pretty sounding) that gathers all the trash from their car, puts it in a plastic bag, ties it in a knot and tosses it out their window as they drive.

I ran past the trash bomb, disgusted.  But then I changed my mind.  I decided to dissect the little bomb just to see what they tossed out.  As I untied the knot I could feel my heart jumping a little as I realized there was junk-mail in the bag.  I pulled out a letter from Dish Network and noticed the address of the recipient.  I set the letter on top of the bag and took another picture so you could read the address.   Then I put it back in the bag and tied it.

I took a picture of me holding the bag and smiling.  Then I started running down the road and snapped another picture of my hand holding the bag as I ran.  I was really getting into the ‘documentation’ side of my run.

As I passed mailboxes I made note of their address.  I felt light on my feet as I approached each mailbox, knowing I was getting closer.

What I did next was illegal, and unless you can get ahold of my camera you have no proof that I did it.  I will tell you that the pictures tell the whole story.  I can tell you this:  when the judge interrogates me about what I was doing it will probably go something like this:

Judge: “Mrs. Strong, you say you were running down the road?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Judge: “And you found someone’s mail on the side of the road?”

Me: “Yes, Sir!”

Judge: “And what did you do next?”

Me:  “I returned the mail to the owner.”

Judge: “Did you take it up to the house and hand it to them?”

Me: “No Sir, I shoved it in their mailbox.”

End of Story.