We Shall Runs Silently

On the next wisp of a fall moon we shall runs
with eyes wide and mouths agape,
starving for any form of attention that would
leave some frosty imprint of love embossed
on our souls, something accidentally left behind; like a
childhood scar, something you only mention while
immersed in warm intimate moments,
told with a half forced laugh that is begging for
reassurance, banking on the hope that
older lovers understand such things,

soon we shall runs to avoid the weight of winter that such
emotional drifts often usher in with them, and we
shall relaxs’ knowing the next fall wind will be
sweeping up leaves soon enough, relaxs’ as
nature and time brush aside the rusting memories
that are clogging our cortex drains,

and when the first shake of snow descends carelessly
from ominous clouds we shall hides
with bodies wrung tight, remaining perfectly
silent the way old people do as they watch
television while enduring hazy reruns of
their former lives, we shall be silent as
mist rising across Old Sullivan’s fields,
silent as that, or silent’er.

Of Late

In preparing to begin training for the Chicago Marathon, I’ve taken a few weeks off running—and working out altogether. This time off has produced an unexpected result. I’ve stopped caring about everything. Seriously.

First, since I’ve stopped working out I started eating like crap. If that translucent orange grease from my pizza drips on my new white dress shirt, I don’t care. If I eat so many Girl Scout cookies I throw-up a little, I just swallow it back down and hope for the best. Yesterday at work a sales rep stopped in and left us a box of 12 Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I ate six of them in less than ten minutes and washed them down with 24 ounces of Mtn Dew (has anyone else noticed the Mountain Dew cans now just say “Mtn”? It’s not like they went phonetic or anything; they just got text lazy.).

Oh, but that isn’t all. I’ve stopped caring about my appearance altogether. I don’t shave (who grows a summer beard unless you’re a hockey player in the playoffs?), I don’t bother showering (why, I’m not working out or sweating…well I do sweat a little while watching TV lately.), and I’ve given up on brushing my teeth (how bad can by breath really get?). Oh, and yesterday when I put my hand on a hot stove, I just really didn’t care to pull it off right away.

And other people. Well, I wouldn’t say I’m misanthropic, but I pretty much hate everyone. And if you are on TV, I automatically hate you (even if you are that guy who saved the box of puppies and kittens out of the burning house). Worse, when I saw a guy running shirtless while carrying his shirt in his hand and while it was 62 degrees and overcast outside, I couldn’t even summon my righteous indignation. I didn’t even swerve my car to give him a scare. At work I’m trying a new program I call the “Only 1” program. Only 1 means I will only give you one word answers. If this is inconvenient, you need to ask better questions.

Also, as of late my ‘career’ has been getting in the way of my overall disillusionment of everything. I’ve had two huge court dates over the past two weeks and a wedding where I delivered a 15 minute best man speech. But now the happy couple is off on their honeymoon, I was victorious in court, and as my first day of training is looming, I have to admit I am beginning to care just a bit again. In fact, I’ve even stopped farting in my office (and have picked up my old habit of doing such awful things in the firm’s library). For anyone who thinks I have ignored you as of late, please know it’s me, not you, and that I’m sorry. If I promise to brush my teeth, can we kiss and make up?

National Running Day

Today is National Running Day. Imagine, an entire day dedicated to running—a sport I love. Millions of people will get outside and run; many for the first time in a long time. There will be balloons, water, music, laughter, and sweat.

As for me, I am not running on principal. The whole event reeks of corporate greed and Hallmark. Unless you have a scheduled run for a race you are preparing for, I suggest you join my boycott.

Now, my boycott won’t involve anything fancy like an official protest or rally at the steps of the capital, such efforts are too showy for me. My boycott is more likely to involve me sitting outside with my bullhorn harassing any NRD participants.* I expect this harassment to continue unabated until the pizza I order from my cell phone arrives. Also, I expect to harass every runner, regardless of their knowledge of NRD or not. If you can’t make it to the East Lansing area, I suggest you hold your own boycott.

So, join me and billions of others by taking a load off, kicking your shoes off and your feet up, and relax, you can always run tomorrow when—like me—you have a run scheduled.

* I would like to thank Nitmos, whose various forms to taunting his children have inspired this particular form of boycott.

Post Bayshore and Keys

Answer: I hate the sound of keys jingling as they dangle whilst I drive; and I live on the edge of excitement!!!

Following Bayshore I went out for a few runs this past week, making sure I spaced them far enough apart to give my body ample rest. Like almost all of my post marathon runs, they were taxing. But I just went out to run ‘with effort’ but not trying to kill anything, mostly to get the rust and soreness out.

What I love most about these runs is that my legs get extremely tired after two miles and I really do get short on breath around four miles. I love post marathon runs because they are difficult, but also because they are post marathon.

It wasn’t until I did a long run on Sunday that I finally felt normal for the entire duration of a run, and that was aided by the beautiful scenery of the lake I was running around as much as anything else.

I’m in the process of planning my training for Chicago, looking to use the FIRST program and cut down on my days running per week. Also, there is a very slight chance I may forgo Chicago and run Grand Rapids the following week, I’ll let you know the how/whys next week.