If I don’t show up for the grunt work, work my way through the night snakes and demons, there is no dance to dance under the Ali’s lights. So it is on me to get well and get back at it.
It’s in the eyes. What it is varies from runner to runner but make no mistake: it’s there, and every ultra runner has it. Distance. Stillness. Fear. Acceptance. Exhaustion. Joy. Time.
“They don’t know,/ they can only guess” is how most mornings feel these rainy spring days. I’ve been sleeping badly for weeks, beset, it seems, by a rolling dream journey.
The zoo is always open. Until it isn’t.
I have no choice but to leave what is done behind and make the best of what is here for me to do. And like I used to do in the middle of long runs, suddenly, inexplicably to me, sometimes I cry.
Getting off the Facebook chatter highway is related to many things, not the least of which was my growing sense of wasting my time in useless political debate for my own personal satisfaction. The issues we face as a nation are too big for a Trump-like aggrandizement of self.
Another way of saying this is that i made an image of something that I saw that wasn’t actually there at the precise moment that I was inclined to make the image.
Here I was, home in one piece, “fired up and ready to go,” as my former President used to say. I took a picture of the moon and headed inside.
Running before daylight has always been my chosen cathedral. Time to eat right, work hard, run and pray. Oh yeah, also a good time to be grateful for the miracle of second chances .
Enough outa me today. I have run, written, eaten and I am about to shower – a very good day. The streets of the world are filled with people who believe that the world is what we make of it and that now is our time to make it a better place for all of us and all of those who are comin’ down the road.