Friday, April 9, 2010

Not Even Running In Place

This week has seemed to me to be interminably long. Truth be told, while I have friends who are apoplectic with delight over the fact that here 'NTSG it has felt more like August than April this week, it has been too damn hot for my taste. I am not a person who "perspires". I sweat. I sweat when I run in the wee small hours of the morning in February - when it is zero degrees. I need not endure something quite far removed from pure unadulterated joy such as the sensation of sweating my ass off while sitting in my office working in the wee small hours of the morning in April.

Happiness to me is a temperature nestled comfortably between the mid-50s and the mid-70s. From a climatological perspective, I am a Nixon man apparently. I have lived in Joisey my whole life. Soon enough we will be mired in the midst of back-to-back-to-back days of temperatures in the mid-80s and higher with accompanying and complementary humidity levels. I can do without my Easter eggs being served to me sunny side up - thank you very much.

And the news this week all over has not exactly been an elixir for the soul either - chockful of stories detailing tragic, brutal and asinine conduct from far and wide. I know that it is not solely the combination of things tropical and topical that has set me off a bit. I am annoyed as well at the fact that I have not been able to run at all this week -either inside on the treadmill or outside in the balmy breezes - as I seek to pay heed to my doctor's recommendations and my wife's admonitions. The deal I made with Margaret calls for two weeks' shelf time. I woke up this morning trying to be excited about the fact that I am almost halfway home. I am not nearly as persuasive as I had hoped I was.

There are countless things about which I care little - if at all. There are significantly fewer things about which I care a lot. Had you told me a year ago that running would have moved from the "do not give a rat's ass" column to the "must do" column I would have laughed out loud.....after checking your head for bumps or spider bites. But it has. I cannot explain it. All I know is that there is a calming feeling (a sensation if you will) that I feel when I run, which feeling I now get from no other source. For the past six days and for the next eight I shall be cut off from it. I know that right now in the world there are people confronting far more serious issues than am I. There is little solace in that knowledge - I assure you. And there should be. I assure you that I know that as well. I am a seriously flawed human being. Unlike a certain piece of lying dreck to whom the world at large has been introduced this week, I am man enough to acknowledge it. Hey Don Blankenship - have you bought yourself any West Virginia Supreme Court Justices yet this week? Yet another nugget of evidence in support of Chris Rock's theory of the color of justice in America.

Eight days. Is eight days a long time or no time at all? Depends on one's perspective I suppose. You wanna run/How long how far how fast/You wanna run/But you can’t out run the past. I am not fleet afoot enough to outrun anything. I simply cannot wait to get back out there and get back at it.

Running down a dream - a dream of peace of mind.


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