I am swimming upstream. Come the end of summer, cool air, touch of Fall, the beginning of the end of things in this cycle, time to take stock, stock up, buy school supplies, bring on the next chapter.
Tarmac Meditations #89: Waddayagonnado
“There is nothing quite so gentle, deep, and irrational as our running—and nothing quite so savage, and so wild.” ~ Bernd Heinrich.
Tarmac Meditations #89: Hurrying Near
Went to the track this morning. Did some quarter mile like repeat stuff. Felt old, tired, stiff, wore out and, finally, pretty good. Remembered that I was never a track star or even “real good”.
Tarmac Meditations #88: Good Animals
“There is no substitute for learning to live in our bodies. All the tests and all the machines in the world will fail if we do not first become good animals.” ~ George Sheehan
Tarmac Meditations #87: A Week In A Life
I have been given a great gift in this, my second chance, and I intend to honor it with my presence and hard work, with a little bit of prayer and a whole mess of good luck, the forces willin’ and the crick don’t rise.
My Hero
Paula Findlay is my hero. I watched as she made her way across the finish line and I wept for her. I wept for the pain she endured and because here was a young woman who wanted to quit, who was exhausted and spent, but she continued on her quest.
Tarmac Meditations #86: Sittin’ at the Edge of The World
I was sitting on the edge of the trail- about 8 miles from the finish, a half mile up from Siskiyou Gap- waitin’, restin’, feelin’ the sun on my back, letting the “big” take care of itself.
Tarmac Meditations #85: Early Morning False Alarm
In the distance, while lacing up before 5:00 … “Come out with your hands up, you are surrounded!”
Tarmac Meditations #84: Almost Independence Day 2012
Sometimes I rewrite the past, make it up, turn things around, maybe what happened to me really happened to somebody else or the other way around. I used to think of it as lying, then later as imagination leading to writing. These days I sometimes think I do it to make things easier, at least […]
Tarmac Meditations #83: Driftin’
The court stenographer reminds me of Sandy-what’s-her-name, quiet and proud, interior, aloof. I always wanted Sandy-what’s-her-name. She stood tall and straight. An athlete, a dancer.
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