The Days of Miracles

... are still with us. After hours, no, days, no--years? -- I have successfully accessed my blog. None of what I've been through to get here makes any sense to me. I've been directed through about 500 screens from Yahoo and Google and have received about 700 emails to various accounts (even went through setting up a new account), all of which somehow got me here. I don't consider myself a technical Neanderthal, not at all. Yet I've been stumped, have been awed by the degree of obfuscation I've encountered in my quest to perform a simple function, i.e., access the blog that I created and that I theoretically control. It's been an exercise in humility, I tell ya. And thanks, nephew, for your help.

Anyway, what follows is a post I put together during the time I was waiting to be admitted to my own bailiwick. Part 2 was written Jan. 21, Part 1 a couple of weeks before that date.

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Part 1:

The time has come either to let some fresh air into this blog or to let it die.

I’ve been thinking about why I started it, and have come to the conclusion that I wanted a place to stand before the public as who I really am. To step out from behind the mask I wear and let people see a bit more than that face I commonly show. The device I chose for doing this was a blog about my running, the activity above all others that I feel identifies who I am. I used to do a lot of solitary running at a track in a park, and to myself I called this locale “crucible park” because it was the place I returned to again and again to burn away the impurities I felt obstructing my healthful growth. I went there in the sun, I went there in the rain, I went there in good health, I went there in the throes of injury and disease. The crucible remained constant; my ability to withstand the fire jerked up and down like Romeo’s heart-monitor reading.

But something funny happened on my way to writing a guidebook to my running life. I became so impressed with my ability to put on a happy face that my writing became—how do you say?—boring. Smug. Self-deprecating. One-sided. I realized early on that the majority of my readers were family and friends. For these people, the very ones I would like to show a more intimate part of myself, I became unable to reveal much more than the predictable good-day/bad-day me.

Part 2:

The above was written a couple of weeks ago at a time I was feeling fatigued and a bit sad. In acknowledgment of the truth put forth in the first sentence, I’m going to let it stand as written, without comment.

Remember last summer when I wrote a post about the wisteria? Above is a photo of how it looks right now. Pretty dead. Stayed tuned next summer for its rebirth.

Today I did my running club’s first race of the year. It’s a rainy time here in the Bay Area, but we lucked out and had our race during a space between the storms. I’m working hard at sharing the doubts, fears, and misperceptions that I frequently conjure up to hobble my serenity, but I’m not having much success on this day. I ran my fastest 10-K since 2002! I’m happy! I’m happy!

My goal for this blog is to check in with it more often and to ask my readers’ indulgence if I don’t post a photograph every time. We’ll see how this goes.

For today, the quick check-in is to say, I’m happy! I’m happy!

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And here's my update for today. Below is a photo taken with my new camera phone (thanks, Z!). It is an image of the WWII-vintage Ford plant, which sits at the north end of the Richmond harbor and was utilized to produce tanks and other engines of war back in the 40s. It has a lot of history, including as the workplace of "Rosie the Riveter."


The old Ford plant, which is under restoration, now has a place in my history as well. Yesterday it was the turnaround for my 14-mile run. I ran in the sun, ran in the rain, ran in the hail. I went slowly, running for ten minutes and then walking for one. It went well, and the still-happy-faced me says, all goes OK in my training for another go at the Avenue of the Giants Marathon this year.

I am distracted and riveted at the same time by the political machinations under way as Super Tuesday approaches. I wish I could tell you I spent part of my three-hour run yesterday weighing the respective merits of Hillary and Obama, but I mostly just watched the shorebirds and savored the fresh air. I'm the poster child for the as-yet unpublished book "Why Old People Run."

Thanks for tuning back in, and have a good week, y'all. I'll be back here soon if the crick don't rise and Google don't lock me out.