post the sixty-fifth, 2013

555.4 miles in 2013.
5455.4 miles in all.

poetic, that.

mid-june 2012, i decided i wanted to run on purpose, so i started running on purpose and set a nice base through the end of the year. in january, i started training for a marathon which will take place on 21 april. all this work, all this training. it's like a semester or two of school, and the final exam is coming in three weeks. there's a little more work this week and then that's it, just the taper and the event. i've never trained this hard for a marathon and now all i want is for it to be over. not the training -- the training doesn't bother me. i want the event to be over. it's like i said, like in school with exams. i hated exams - just wanted them to be over. the stress. the fear of forgetting what to say, what to do, forgetting everything you've learned. the risk of pouring yourself into something and getting nothing in return. i just want it to be over.

post the sixty-fourth, 2013

we planned to go somewhere warm in the wintertime, and yeah, winter is technically over, but it snowed at home while we were away, so there is that. a long-time friend generously gave us buddy passes. in case you aren't familiar with buddy passes, they allow you to fly free anywhere the airline (in this case, southwest) goes. we thought we'd be driving to florida, but suddenly, the possibilities were wide open.

4 of the 6 of us required 2 flights each, for a total of 4 flights, to arrive. the remaining 2 of us (which included the 1 of me), through a collaboration of karma and circumstance, required 6 flights. upon arrival, we were cranky and cankled.

a start like that would make any vacation seem good in comparison, and when you add that we haven't been on vacation in like 16 years, there really wasn't any way we would have a bad time in any location. THEN, add to all THAT that the location we'd selected was san diego -- !!! (never having been there before, we didn't know what to expect, but that place is... well, it's simply wonderful.)

there is so much to do that you could pack many weeks and not do it all. and, i don't mean a handful of fun things and a ton of lame things. i mean, there are tons and tons of really fun things to do. each day, i got up early to run, and each day, we had breakfast at this fantastico little italian coffee shop called pappalecco. for lunches, we ate a ton of ice cream and other nonsense.

first day: nashville to panama city to houston to dallas to austin to phoenix to san diego

second day: visited coronado island beach, drank the best pina coladas EVAH, visited mission beach (part of our party were surfing but we couldn't find them to mock them), had cucumber margarita happy hour by the pool, ate at a rather lame fish place, went to sunset cliffs to watch the sun sink behind a lousy cloudbank (still super because we'd never been there)

third day: walked around balboa park, visited the USS midway, had dinner with the generous friend who made the trip possible (at her house which means she had to cook and clean, so... is that really a thank-you? hmmm.)

fourth day: visited safari park, orfila winery, and the mothership road runner shoe store, and had great mexican dinner in old town

fifth day: took a hornblower harbor tour, strolled around little italy, ate a magnificent supper at a place called spaghetteria, went back to the hotel and got hammered

sixth day: got up early to catch the airport shuttle which left earlier than it was supposed to, caught the next shuttle, got to airport in plenty of time... to wait on our delayed flight. three hours later, got on a plane and came directly back - no stops!

and, on the seventh day - we slept in!

post the sixty-third, 2013

busy with living
got nothing to say about it
too busy saying
means life can be lived without it
meaning too much to
the liver who lived it
start to the end from
the giver who gived it

post the sixty-second, 2013

the assignment was 10 miles, with a MP tempo on miles 5-8 if i felt like it. i knew 10 miles was too much to do during the workday, so i left it to after work. i am so used to running during the day that leaving it is always a little odd. i am generally not that into running after work, but today i was looking forward to it all day. weird.

i'm changing clothes and check the weather, and it's got 47º and sunny so i think i might be overdressed, but heading to the car i am freezing. that's the coldest sunny 47º i have ever felt. i drive over to the park and there are like 2 cars in the lot. weird.

today i am going to this local park that has a paved loop of just under three miles. my thinking is that i'll go around one and a third times (4 miles, warmup). that would put me on the backside between the hills. at least, that's my guess - i am not that familiar with the place. then, i plan to put in 4 miles doing up and back on the flatter(y will get you nowhere) mile on the backside, stealthily avoiding the hills. i do my 1-1/3 laps and i am not where i thought i would be. no worries, i will simply go forward 1 mile, then turn around and come back. nothing weird about that.

so i do one mile and it comes out way slow which i think is caused by the fact i still ended up doing the damn hill i was trying to avoid (gah!), but then i do another mile and it comes out way fast. a-ha -- the average is on target, so both miles are probably out of kilter. AND, so that's two tempo miles in the books and i am not tired at all -- am feeling like BRING IT. weird.

third mile comes out just right, goldilocks. fourth mile... well, fourth mile isn't merely "too fast" - it is RIDICULOUSLY fast. i know myself well enough by now to know i am capable of those speeds, but it's not like i can run that fast without feeling it. fairly certain the garmin is messed up. it lost signal a couple times during warmup, and although i was watching it fairly closely to keep myself from going too fast (ironic?), i could not watch it like a hawk. (like a hawk... would? i mean, doesn't it seem that you would watch something not like a hawk per se, but like a hawk "would"? weird.)

so, that's it. 4 warm up, 4 tempo. alls that's left is 2 hella slow cool down miles. or, maybe it was "deathly slow"? anyways, i leave the park and go a bit down the street. i am thinking it will be a half mile to point X that i have spotted out there, and then a half mile back but i get to X and it's like less than 4/10. weird.

i come on back to the park and finish 1.2 miles because i want to make up where i was short in the last mile of the tempo piece. yes, i am weird.

it was 47º when i got there (like i said) and went down to around 43º. i had on capri tights, a sleeveless under a long sleeve, socks and shoes. i skipped hat and mittens because it was fucking sunny and 47º!! but i never got warm, never sweated, just felt colder and colder. usually i warm up at least somewhat while i am running, so that was extremely weird.

i feel fine after, only cold. i stop for a snack and a chocolate milk and i get two G2s because they are "2/$3.33" or $2.49 per each. on the way home i drink the chocolate milk and eat the banana and protein bar and drink half the G2. home, i can't get to a warm shower fast enough, and finally, after warm shower, i put on soft warm clothes, and i feel snuggly and safe and warm and tired. and that's not weird at all!

post the sixty-first, 2013

just a couple updates and whatnot.

first there was THIS post where i got some new shoes and then there was THAT post where the brooks pure flow were becoming pure hell. basically, the shoes were crippling me, but i was just sure i couldn't return them because i'd worn them. guess who was wrong? guess? GUESS. what? no, not lindsay lohan (although at the same time, yes, lindsay lohan) -- not her, ME. duh. yesterday, i went back to dick's [sporting goods] and explained exactly what had happened -- how i'd tried the shoes in the store and they were fine, how i'd worn them and they were fine, how my foot started to hurt over the weekend and i didn't know what was going on, how i put the shoes on again during the week and suddenly realised exactly what was going on, how i tried to bandage my foot but that didn't help. i said to the dick[store]man - these shoes are defective. he was like - hmm...hmm...hmm... and then he goes, are you exchanging or getting your money? i was all over that - EXCHANGING, SIR! he was like - hmm...hmm...okay. i was embarrassingly grateful, went directly to the lunar fly display, and came back with my new shoes. exchanged, boom, done. i am tired of people dissing my flyshoes. the best shoes are the ones that work for the wearer.

as far as THIS little experiment goes, the results are mixed. my arm is happier all day, but i miss having the time handy in the night. uncorrected, my eyesight is such that in order to see items, i am compelled to bring them within licking distance of my face. in this scenario, weildyness is key and the value of the 3lb alarm-clock-radio is somewhat diminished. during the days, i have looked at my wrist a handful of times -- during a meeting in a room with no clock, at the bizhub collating copies, in the restroom -- "two freckles past a hair". haha. IN CONCLUSION, missing the watch at night, not missing it during the day.

i've completed the witch's daughter by paula brackston and the road not taken by robert frost. currently, i am on the journal of best practices which sounds like a business book but is in fact a personal memoir by david finch. not exactly FLYING through the virtual nook-book pages, but not at a complete standstill.

and, how are you?

post the sixtieth, 2013

on this farm we grow roses,
pretty posies,
smell so sweet to all the noses,
on this farm.

in this house we keep quiet,
subdued riot,
sound so soft to all abidant,
in this house.

if you knew the secret would you tell it to the passersby?
tell the distance 'tween your lover's barren heart and pale blue sky?

on this farm we grow roses,
pretty posies,
smell so sweet to all the noses,
on this farm.

in this life we're spread handed,
stealthy bandit,
sight so clear to all who planned it,
in this life.

if you knew the secret would you tell it to the passersby?
tell the distance 'tween your lover's barren heart and pale blue sky?

post the fifty-ninth, 2013

animalia chordata mammalia eutheria laurasiatheria chiroptera

according to wikipedia, 1000 bats can eat four tons of insects per year.

one ton is 2000 pounds so four is 8000.

1000 bats eat 8000 pounds of insects.

1 bat eats 8 pounds of insects per year.

8 pounds per year is .02lb per night.

if my calculations are correct, .02lb is 1/3 of an ounce, which doesn't sound like much until you remember that insects weigh exactly 0.

the largest bat is the malayan flying fox, which weighs about 1.5kg and the smallest -- the bumble bee bat -- weighs 1.7g and is the smallest known mammal. in case you aren't metric, converted to the imperial, 1.5kg is about 3lbs and 1.7g is .05oz. i am guessing the bumble bee bat isn't the one eating 8 pounds of insects in a year.

so, bats eat a metric shit-ton of insects. can you even imagine the insect-filled skies if there were no bats? in addition to eating the hell out of the bug population, bats provide great fertilizer in the form of guano, a.k.a.: POO. they also aid in pollination (another form of fertilization) and seed dispersal (third fertilization activity).

one of the bullet points is not like the others....

i went to find how many types of bats there are, and this is what i found: "There are around 1,100 species of bats found worldwide. Bats account for over 9000% of all mammal species on earth." 9000%. wow. that is a significant portion.

post the fifty-eighth, 2013

today we went to purchase some yard art of the live variety. (trees and shrubs, doncha know.) here is what i saw at the tree and shrub shop. (nursery, doncha know.) did you know that if you purchase farm output from a farmer, there's no sales tax? at least, that's true around here. reason #846,292 i should be shopping at the farmers market.

big ass truck

big ass truck driven by a big ass who shopped the whole lot looking for a place to park the damn thing. C'MON. don't drive a vehicle you cannot park.

carry mate

carry mate is the bomb, mate. it's a soft-sided, foldable nylon basket with a metal frame. i have kind of wanted one for a while cause they are so cool, but today was not the day to bring one home.

cats gotta snooze

garden shop cat taking a break from fighting off pesky garden pests.

seuss trees

i am a big fan of whimsical topiary. we looked at a few pieces today, but they were a poor combination of tired, dry, and pricey, so none of them got to come and live with us.

thought these were gas masks

they had a large display of these solar powered fan-hat thingies. i hope they were being ironic, because this type of merch sort of detracts from the "we know what we're doing" vibe.

grass rugs

i find rolled up lawn to be amusing.

post the fifty-seventh, 2013

went down to the high school tonight to watch a soccer game. the person i usually sit with wasn't there and this one young alumna that i know sat down by me. that was cool, we chatted, watched the game. soon a few of her friends showed up and sat around us, subsuming me in a group of high school seniors and college freshmen. i chatted when appropriate, sat quietly when i should. it's surprising how much kids will say when they get used to your being there. sex, drugs, rock-n-roll. i thought it was cool they'd talk around me and cool also that nothing much's changed since i was their age. we talked about the on-field action. they talked about on-beach beers. we talked about the puppies under the stands. they talked about keg stands. i think you see what i mean. not sure why they were being so open around me... maybe i seem safe, maybe they talk that way around everyone. in any case, the conversation was more interesting than usual by several orders of magnitude.

but... i felt a little guilty for being so easy going. when the game was over, i gathered them together and hugged them and told them to be careful. in the end, what can you really do with other people's kids anyway, other than tell them you care.

post the fifty-sixth, 2013

i've become accustomed to using google chrome. that's a web browser, in case you don't know. i don't even remember why i switched from IE, but it's been several months and chrome suits me fine. except... google and twitter had a spat, so google removed the twitter app from the chrome app store. the app i had still worked, so i wasn't too concerned about things.

until.

i needed to share a spreadsheet at work and planned to use google docs (or "drive" as its now known) but i use my google drive for personal shit. i can't share it for work. oh, the humanity! then, i was like... hmm... wonder if i can have TWO google logins? well, kids, the answer is... [drum roll] ...yes! i got the work login all set up and things were all good.

until.

i realised that i didn't have a twitter app on the new login's homepage. oh, the humanity! i went to the google app store to get one, and there wasn't one (of course). i desperately searched the internet for ways to create my own app. lo & behold, i am not the only one looking for this, and you can, in fact, quite easily create your own apps for your bookmarks. when i say "easily" - i mean, like, patty-cake easy. life was good again.

until.

i got home and of course the extension wasn't in this instance of chrome. it was in my work instance. oh, the humanity! i scrounged around until i found the instruction page again, and whew, got the app re-created. i am thinking about creating apps for all my bookmarks - that's how easy it is. life is starting to feel manageable, organised, even... dare i say.... good.

until.

i page past the helpful "create your own app" page and see that there are hundreds - nay, thousands! - of chrome tips and tricks and places i am falling short in my exploitation of all that is chrome. oh, the humanity! beyond THAT, i find more pages! websites filled with useful information about computer stuff and people stuff and house stuff and work stuff and life stuff that i never heard about, much less implemented - stuff, stuff, and more stuff stuffed in the stuffing of the stuff! it's everywhere! i'm useless and worthless and ignorant and ill-mannered and misbehaved and fat and ugly and... and...

until.

i close the computer and walk away.

oh!

the humanity.

---------------------------

here's that page in case you're interested. it's truly simple.

highly recommended:

http://learnoutlive.com/how-to-create-a-google-chrome-app-in-less-than-5-minutes/

post the fifty-fifth, 2013

the game isn't scheduled to start till 19:45 and the schedule is running late. we don't get out of there till 21:00 and i am bust-dusted tired. not sleepy tired but that deep sort of physical tired that leaves you wanting to just stare out windows. not yet, though, cause there's the drive home. so i swap out my sweat-soaked tee for something dry, sluff my gear to the car, drop it in the trunk and drop myself in the seat. whew. crank the engine, switch on the headlamps, and i'm on the road. when you're tired like this, you have to be extra careful driving. it's easy to get distracted or to miss something in the periphery, just let yourself space out. so i'm vigilant, gripping the wheel like a maniac, eyes on the road. i get to the traffic signal and eschew the city route, going left to take the country roads home. it's darker, sure, but there's less traffic to deal with. i'm in a rhythm now, tooling down the straightaway, when i notice a glow in the trees on my right. moon? no. car? no. what's over there? then it dawns on me - that's the railroad. there's a train sneaking up behind me. well, if you can call a multi-ton, 11 foot tall iron structure, barreling 50mph down an inescapable 4'8.5"-wide track "sneaking"... i check my rearview - no cars - and none in front of me as far as i can see. it's just me and the train. i slow down until he's beside me, then match his pace. he's blowing the hell out of his whistle - there's a crossing ahead - and we're both just barreling along now (47mph according to my gauge) side-by-side through the dark country night. we pass the crossing and approach the trestle. the distance clicks away, click, click -- up a rise, down again, big sweeping right turn, turning right into the railroad, into his path, here comes the train, barreling down on me!

i pass under the trestle, he passes over, and just like that, we leave each other. i head east, home, and he pushes on to the west.

post the fifty-fourth, 2013

turf toe talk time.

why is a serious condition not taken seriously?

alliteration always augments amusement, and in this case, the alliterative “t” causes speaker to very nearly spit on conversation partner. turf doesn’t have a bad rap, and toes are innately funny.

however.

my toe hurts. there’s a purplish hue where the toe bone’s connected to the foot bone. the knuckle’s a little tender, a little twingy, a little thick.

did i run too much, too often, too fast, too hard? was it the hills, the new shoes, the old shoes, the concrete? did this happen by chance, by luck, by karma, by me?

turns out, it's on me.

remember how i said i got two new pairs of shoes? well. i started wearing the brooks pure flows first. they were so wonderful. bendy and welcoming and flexible, yet also sturdy. it was like they were coddling me whilst giving the road what-for on my behalf. thanks, pure flows!

fast forward to the weekend, and whaaaaat the hell is up with my purple toe?? i was fairly distraught. i am training for a marathon, after all. i chalked it up to overuse and (après run) stuck my foot in a bucket of ice water for 5mins on saturday and 10mins on sunday and let me tell you something about body parts in buckets of ice -- OUCHIE. but, i guessed it did some good because the toe was feeling better.

fast forward to today. suiting up to go for a joggernaut -- i put my right foot in, put my right foot out, put my right foot in, and shake it all about. whaaaaat the hell is this?? the forefoot yoke of the pure flow is precisely cutting acrossed the bruised area of my toe. awww, jeez. i just got these shoes!

colour me disappointed.

post the fifty-third, 2013

i opened the new floss, pulled and cut a piece, began flossing, and boom. the floss was stuck between my teeth. i couldn't get it out the conventional way, had to run it out the side, caused it to shred. now i had floss shreds stuck between my teeth. nothing for it but to go get the old floss from the other bathroom, floss out the floss. irony, thy name is dentalia.

--***--***--***--

get in the car and it has three dots of gas, so i stop at a gas station that i never stop at just because, why not. deboard the car, push the pump's buttons ("you have no rewards at this time"), slide my checkcard, select my desired gas flavour, start pumping, and boom. nothing comes out. i pull on the handle a few times. clack. clack. nothing. go inside and they try to get the pump going from there. nothing. so they go--sorry, we'll cancel the 8¢, please use another pump. okay, cool, they are nice and all, so i do and the different pump works. the next gas station i pass on my way to the freeway has their gas 15¢ cheaper. i got 10 gals, so i spent $1.50 to hassle myself. brilliant irony.

--***--***--***--

snowlallujah!

an inflatable snowman has lived next door this winter. he must be made of industrial strength inflatable-stuff because he's withstood all manner of rain, wind, snow, sleet, and dark of night. through it all, he's been postured as pictured -- leaning back to get a really good view of the sky, just a'praising on whatever the sky may send his way, big ol' silly grin on his face. see the guide wires? my hypothesis is the neighbors, in fear of his possible absentia-via-windus, tied him down too tightly. the irony is they aren't the type of folk to ironically place inflatables--they are fucking serious as hell about their yard art. when mr snowman is finally unflated and put away for the summer, i will be the only one who misses the deliciously unabated joy he exhibits at simply seeing the sky.

post the fifty-second, 2013

mark it down: this is the week i stopped wearing a watch.

i mean, like, for everyday. i still wear a running watch whilst running (except when it konks out as on tuesday). ANYWAY. everyday watch.

i first started wearing a watch in fifth grade. it was a yellow snoopy watch where the snoopy arms would turn around to keep time. loved that watch. no idea where it went.

someone's selling this in an auction.... $300!

in high school -- a watch that had belonged to my great-grandmother. i still have it somewhere. it's a very delicate wind-up bulova, analog of course, and fits quite well on my freakishly tiny wrists. i wore it all through high school. no matter how i set it or how many times i wound it, the mechanism would always end up 2 minutes fast. if i set it purposefully slow or purposefully fast, it would end up back at 2 minutes fast. spooky in a cool way.

mine is most like the one with the black strap and square face.

i took that watch to college, but when i was a freshman in college, my auntie gave me a SWATCH. i wore the freaking HELL out of that thing, wore it many years, replaced the band at least once. it was originally all white - white case and band, with a red grid on the face that looked like graph paper, and black arms. when the band broke, i replaced it with black. also, when you had a SWATCH you had to have a swatch protector, and i had more than one. if you don't know what a swatch protector is, google it!

SWATCH!

after college, one of my had-been-roommates gave me a mickey mouse watch with a sort of dressy look. i mean, it wasn't completely cartoony, it was nice. the face had a small mickey and it was open so you could see into the mechanics of the watch. that was sweet. i wore it until it quit running and i believe i have that one somewhere too.

mine isn't a pocket watch, but this is the same face.

after that one quit running, i went back to granny's watch for a while, had to get it repaired first, and it didn't last long before it quit again. and, then i got a really nice citizen watch as a gift from someone who is sitting in the room with me right now! guess who! guess! anyway, it is a nice watch, and i wore it probably a dozen or so years. or, more. really classy, analog, gold with a leather strap. i still have it, too. the strap kept popping off the face, even after i got new strap-holder-on-thingies.

classy!

also, during this era, someone gave me a timex mystery answer watch. it's a combination digital watch and magic 8 ball. i alternated the citizen and the timex, depending on activity. the citizen for work and dress, the timex for play. i wore the timex to run, before i had the garmin, and i wore it to summercamp and to several monkey marathons.

poor mystery answer watch, like jud, is now dead.

after the trouble with the citizen's band (breaker 1-9?), i sort of put that one aside and started replacing it with a series of cheap analog watches. i'd alternate those with the timex. i couldn't find anything i liked, really, and started wearing the timex more & more. then, guess what, timex konked out. so, i sent it for repair, and all was well, until it konked out again, and so i sent it again, and all was well, until it konked out AGAIN, and i sent it again... and repair denied. they'd no longer repair that model.

that was about a year ago. the repair place offered me a discount on another model, so i got a small digital with a tiny compass. seemed like fun, the tiny compass, but it is only a plastic bubble that's in the way. i purchased a generic timex digital at the sporting goods store, and it's okay... nothing special. i thought it would be fun to have two, but it's nothing special. each is small, but still the strap on each is too long, meaning a bit of the velcro is left exposed and gets caught on sweaters, shirts, hair. ugh. neither fit right, neither will stay in place on my arm. more and more, i was forgetting to put one on, forgetting in the morning, forgetting after running, forgetting, forgetting.

pink expedition with useless compass on my disproportionately small wrist with freakishly protuberant triquetrum.

so....

this week, i just decided to go without. timekeeping is ubiquitous, omnipresent, and time itself is relentless. why do i need a reminder strapped to my wrist?

post the fifty-first, 2013

there are a million reasons not to go.

well, maybe not a million, per se, but you know. plenty. plenty of reasons. it's getting late. i want lunch. it's raining. but for some reason, i just want to go. so, i get changed and outside and look at my garmin, and it's on 0 power. great, i think. of all the days to be without a watch. i shut it off, planning to only use it at the track. i hope it will hang in there for the workout.

i get there and there's one guy already on the track. i'm oddly relieved to not be alone, although it's not like we're together.

i remove my hat and short-sleeve shirt and tuck them under the bleachers to hopefully keep them somewhat dry. i am fixing to get started when he slows for a recovery, so i am like, what pace are you trying to hit. he's like, 6, and so i am like, haha forget it then.

i do the first 800 in 3:45, which is just a touch quick but i am happy with it. the wind is pretty fierce on the backstretch, so i decide to take my recovery where i am. sorry, coach, that's just how it was today--there was no way to recover in a wind like that. so i get my breath back and whatnot, start and stop the watch to get it on 4:00, and then start it and take off. about halfway through the first 400, the watch shuts off completely. well, that's just great. reason #856 to quit this workout. but, for some reason, i don't want to.

i finish the second 800 and the third, just trying to match the effort from the first one, the 3:45. that guy is still here, sort of all over the place really. we end up at recovery together and he's like, what workout are you doing? and i go, 7 by 800 trying to hit 8 min pace but i don't know... my watch died. i go, what about you, you are all over the track? he's like, i am not a distance runner. and then he explains a pyramid workout that i don't really follow and i am like, that's cool, that's cool. he says it again, i am not a distance runner. is he trying to apologize or something? i feel like saying, well neither am i - i am just a doofus out here jogging in the rain.

i do the fourth 800 and i am really getting warm, so i come out of the long sleeve and pull the short from under the bleachers and put it on. that guy is still here, changed to going clockwise, right now he's on the far side of the track. i do the fifth 800, and he's where i am again, so i go, is the wind any better that way - haha... (see, it's an OVAL so you're always going to be facing the wind at some point.) he laughs. he goes, yeah i think it's worst in this corner. i am like, yeah. he goes, you are looking strong. i am like, hey thanks man - you too. he carries on with his workout.

i finish the sixth 800 and then finally the seventh, and it's like a party in my brain, so happy. i dig out the long sleeve, hat, watch (i'd ditched it when i changed shirts) from under the bleachers. everything's damp but not soaked. my arms are cold and wet, my fingers aren't cooperating. the temp has dropped, i think. i struggle to get the long sleeve back on, strap the dead watch to my left arm, the hat's pretty dry on the inside, thank goodness.

i sort of stall and wait for him to lap around again, and i wave and go, bye, and he goes, have a nice rest of the day! and he smiles. hell, he's been smiling the entire time. if i didn't know better, i'd say he's enjoying this.

as i am jogging off, headed back to the office, i think maybe i should have gotten his name, but then i am like, nah, who cares. we were just two runners sharing a track in miserable conditions, doing our workouts. names don't matter. that's how it is sometimes, when you are a runner.

post the fiftieth, 2013

reprehensible
yet ostensible.

at one time
you were
indispensable.

then you did
the
indefensible.

now it's time
to all be
sensible.

don't deny --
it's
comprehensible.

reprehensible
yet ostensible.

post the forty-ninth, 2013

today we were watching "forrest gump" for the againth time. at the end of the movie, forrest opens a curious george book and a feather falls out then floats away. the way the camera follows the feather, it's clearly a symbol.

a symbol of what?

forrest's mother and wife die during the movie. while forrest is visiting jenny's grave, a small flock of birds noisily settle in the tree over her headstone. combine bird symbol with the single feather and together we get souls floating free. the feather demonstrates that we are all floating through life, moving from one situation to the next, alighting here or there. when we alight, we are bound up in that environment, that happening. we are featherweights, controlled by winds of change and circumstances we find ourselves in.

contrast this with the notebook symbol in "adjustment bureau". in that movie, notebooks carried by AB reps contain entire outlines of all our lives. there's no floating, no alighting. we're players in a plan and there's a bureau of adjusters working to keep us all on plan.

either way, we are controlled by outside circumstances. in the first case, the circumstances are random. in the latter, the circumstances are planned. either way, though, we have no free will.

or... do we?

i mean, do we in the context of these movies.

in forrest gump, at one point, jenny is driven by her circumstances to climb to the ledge of a building. about to jump, she slips, and in that split second, she realizes that all she wants is to live. she climbs back down. for her, climbing back down is a leap of faith -- it's a point where she isn't a feather, where she isn't blown around but is herself in control.

in adjustment bureau, david and elise come to a point where they can choose compliance to the plan or they can go off-book. they decide for off-book, make that leap, and elude the pursuing adjusters in a thrilling chase through the streets of manhattan until they literally run themselves into a corner where they stand their ground and earn the right to rewrite their mutual story.

in both cases, characters are better off for having decided to take matters into their own hands and work against the controlling forces.

(yes, people have written volumes about what i have barely touched on here, but this is a blog post not a thesis.)

post the forty-eighth, 2013

on my weekly running plan, friday is a day off. i had gotten into the habit of using fridays to do some light elliptical just to warm up, and then get in some good stretching, a few planks and bird dogs, a couple pliés, maybe some easy weight lifting. it's been literally weeks since i have done that. it was a habit, i missed a couple, and boom, habit gone. i was sort of feeling like it wasn't much - that during the week at least one other day i should do some good stretching and all - because just friday wasn't really enough to do any good. instead of adding another day, i dropped friday. this doesn't really make me happy with myself. if i could remember this feeling i have right now when it comes time to head to the fitness center on fridays, maybe i'd go.