Running Down a Dream

Went for a run today, and for the first time since I've begun this little ol' trip, I felt good both starting and stopping. The alarm went off at 5am, but after climbing into bed at 11, there was no way I was getting up, and I'm glad I didn't.

By this afternoon, the weather was mild and the sun was shining. I got home 4:30ish and changed into shorts and short-sleeved shirt. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, I got some Vitamin D this afternoon! It was a trifle breezy heading west, but I sucked it up. I don't know if it was the sun or the week of rest, but I felt pretty good even at the beginning. It was still just my 3.5 mile loop, but I felt like I could do the distance. I'm also getting better at ignoring my body and the pain and just focusing on the steps. Speaking of...

Way back when, 20 or so years ago, I used to sing songs in my head when I ran. I was slow, as slow as I am now, and I generally ended up running alone. I didn't mind, really, but I did sing to myself in order to pass the time. Sure, Walkmen existed, but they were heavy and large and skipped. In 1990, I sang a lot of "Englishman in New York" by Sting. It's got a good rhythm and I knew the words. What can I say? And I have continued this tradition while climbing: I have recited "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert Service on about six mountains -- but all silently to myself (I start reciting when I get too winded to talk). I often forget the stanza in themiddle, but because I know enough of the rhymes, I can work out the whole poem. It makes it more interesting because I have to think about what comes next.

Well, I've noticed that when I start running (sans earbuds), those two works consume my brain power. Incidentally, I tried to recite "The Cremation of Sam McGee" for my friends the other day, and I got lost in the middle, but when I started running two days later, I remembered the whole thing. Maybe I'm just a creature of habit, but I also think that iPods have destroyed us. My iPod is tiny and has no moving parts -- it never skips -- making it ideal for exercise. But it also saddens me, because I'm sure that if I spent more time _without_ ear buds in my ears, I would force myself (from sheer boredom) to memorize more poems and songs. I still haven't mastered "Wet Dream" or "Alice's Restaurant" -- although I made big inroads back in the early 90s. I could also relearn Mark Antony's speech or polish off a few sonnets. Maybe I could fialize "Ozymandeus" or tackle "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" or "The Raven". The options are endless... except that I am tied to my iPod.

I read Fahrenheit 451 last year with my sophomores. I could see it in there, but I wasn't able to fully draw out the problems that Ray Bradbury foresaw with, well, earbuds (he calls them seashells). Those things cut us off from the world. They shut down our brains and shut down our communication. My kids don't get it, but it's why I don't let them use them in class. But there I am, plugged in, and disconnected from the world around me. Hey, at least I'm running.

And Katy, I *love*, love, love love your quotes. I need to put them all on a t-shirt. I am my own hero and it is a miracle that I've even started. And I love carbs -- all of them. And I want a blow-by-blow of your Disney run. Is this the Cali Disney park (I can't remember which is which)? If so, maybe we can meet up and hang out!!!!