Running Commentary

. . . so grow I. About four weeks ago I was doing my pre-run calf stretch, leaning against the neighbor's fence, when I noticed a small wisteria twining up the side of the house. It was pale and almost leafless and exhibited a few dessicated, droopy buds scattered the length of the vine. If I thought anything at all, it was that this was one poor-looking, almost-dead plant. After that day I didn't run for a couple of days--and then I went out of town for five more days. The day after I returned I went for an early morning run. As I absent-mindedly stretched at the fence, I was suddenly snapped awake by the visual feast before me. The "dead" wisteria was lush, green, and loaded with hanging clumps of purple blossoms that fairly vibrated with life. This morning I went for my first post-marathon run. At the fence I observed the wisteria, which is now fully green but mostly blossom-less. In the same way I know my own name, I know that all that lives rises up and then fall...

If serenity is the absence of brain waves, I'm there. Time, as it has a tendency to do, went by, until finally all my hand wringing and pavement pounding had to give way to the actual marathon, which I ran yesterday. I wasn't fast, but then, I didn't expect to be (finished in 5:25:22). The subject on which I didn't have clear expectations was my chance of surviving intact. I'm happy to report, to report serenely , that I did survive, with no apparent lasting effects other than an annoying blister under the ball of my right big toe. I think if that hadn't popped up around mile 22 I would have finished faster, but I'm probably just making excuses. Anyway--the day was cool and clear, the course was lovely (multiply all those trees in the photo above by about a million if you're trying to picture the Avenue of the Giants), and the people were all friendly and earnest and, well, great. Z and I went to the spaghetti feed Saturday night at the volunteer fire d...