LIFE AS A HUMAN

Tarmac Meditations #40: The Artifact

By Michael Lebowitz | Friday, February 11, 2011 at 12:11 am | 1 Comment

A runner who knows the feeling of “oldandslow” thinks about artifacts that result from the process of creating.

October 2, 2010

Fell asleep at 6:00pm ( The Cardinal 21 – Ducks 3). Thought it was a late nap. Turns out, thus far, it may have been all there is for sleeping tonight.

I hate it when I watch the Ducks, and equally, I hate it when I miss the game. Saw a t-shirt that said something like, Having a Quack habit…Now, THAT’s ducked up.

October 3, 2010

Pictures and words come from the same place but where that is I do not know. The impulse to write something and/or pick up the camera is clear enough.

October 4, 2010

The artifact is the result of the process, whether it’s a run, a piece of writing or a photograph. Sometimes the artifact is pretty close to what was being thought at the moment — and sometimes it is miles away. Often I am trying to capture in whatever medium is at hand the feeling I have or had when I saw or thought something. Can’t do this very well most of the time but especially when my lifelong battle with migraines kicks in. Like yesterday. Canceled my run. Cancelled it today. It’s hard for me to write when I can’t run. Hell, it’s hard to write, period. Some people think migraines are caused by changes in atmosphere or altitude. Me? I’m going for changes in attitude and perspective, and maybe genetics or bad karma or lack of caffeine…whatever. Maybe I’ll do two longer runs tomorrow. Or not.

October 5, 2010

Long run…not so much. Track work, indeed. Stronger in the 200′s (metres, that is) than I have been. Good coffee, new website almost built…damn, that means I’m going to have to get back to writing something. I hate when I run out of distractions (oh wait, my iTunes library needs work .

October 6, 2010

Did some track work again. It makes this oldandslow runner feel like he used to feel in the way-back — hands on knees, gasping desperately for air, feeling like something of value had just been done. “Done, mofo. Been. DONE!” Right up until my hamstring tweaked and oldandslow was the way to get home.

The spot on the back of the scoreboard lights up the flag in the early morning mist.