Tarmac Meditation #3: December 15, 2009
Ran yesterday. Early. Getting a little stronger, running a little more easily. Still old, still slow. Like a dream some days, easy and quiet, reflective and, in its own way, wondrous, the running calls up feelings from long ago, muscle memories of back-lit summer fields, of turning for home in the state meet, of things that never happened but some have become my own.
For me, in those moments, there is almost inevitably an ephemeral meeting with Abebe Bikila on the streets of Rome, with Beardsley down some northern country road, sometimes a silent tunnel into a stadium with no one in the seats, the only noise made by footfall and wind in a thousand flags.
I remember the quiet, verdant green of Forest Hills Tennis Stadium on a Sunday morning long ago, shared in the company of ghosts and dreamers in equal number.
Photo Credit
“Abebe Bikila on the streets of Rome” Britannica.com
Beautiful.