It's a Jungle Out There

A very warm day. Like a summer's day elsewhere in this country, but a perfect Bay Area fall day (read: no fog). Upon awaking this morning I decided I was bored with my same ol', same ol'. So I headed up the hill, which in Berkeley can really mean up. I zigzagged up to the UC campus, running slow but steady. Zigged north, ducked under some trees and took a path into the groves of academe. This, keep in mind, was Sunday morning around 6:30. Peace wasn't a temporary condition resulting from a lack of traffic, rather, it was the world itself. Birds. Air. Silence. Me.

I dipped my head as I ran by the Campanile, paying it the obligatory homage that is every landmark's due. I made my way east, puffing as I scaled stairs and pounded vertical pavement. Finally I was there--at the track above Clark Kerr Campus. The track was still in shadow, but from its western rim I could see all of Berkeley and all of the the Bay spread out below me and already basking in the dawn's early light.

I did six laps, four of them rather fast (for me). Three other runners appeared briefly and then fled--am hoping it wasn't something I said. As I finished lap six, I felt an ominous pull in my right groin muscle. Being a sensible sort, I ignored it, and headed back down the hill.

When I arrived home, I looked at the jungle (see title--it took me long enough to get here, no?) that is attempting to devour the north side of our house. I resolved to spend an hour clipping blackberry vines. It seemed like it would be a good cool-down and also a way to keep the neighbors from acting out any homicidal urges that might be induced by contemplating carnivorous thorn bushes moving onto their property by visible leaps and bounds.

I did spend an hour and ten minutes fighting the berry vines. The air rang with the sounds of battle! Blood was shed! I crawled on my belly through the ranks of the enemy and emerged the victor! Sadly, neither of these last two claims is true, but sometimes I think life is all about the stories.

What I did emerge with was a) the flowers (above) and b) a few rather bedraggled, hard-won berries (below left). I think I still had a bit of the old runner's high going, because I found myself thinking that the nefarious blackberry plant was a lot like some people I've known--that is, prickly and overly aggressive, defensive beyond what's called for, yet harboring the sweetness that underlies all life. Uncovering this sweetness can take a little effort, an effort that's well repaid.

I spent the rest of my day moving among three activities--proofreading (yeah, working), grazing (yeah, eating), and dipping in and out of the Sunday papers (yeah, goofing off).

During that last activity I was thrilled to come across a story that featured a book I edited and also a photo of the book's author, my old friend and colleague Tom Downs. Tom is a mesmerizing writer, and I can honestly say editing his book was the easiest job I've ever had in the course of my publishing career. I dare you to read his guide without deciding to drop everything you're doing and go for a ramble in SF.

Eventually the sun, which had a number of hours ago come up, did what it does (and glad I am of it--so nice that the night-follows-day thing can pretty be much relied on), and went down. There was nothing to be done after a day such as this except to have French toast for dinner. So Z and I did just that. We did it, and I'm glad. So there!

And the A's beat the Tigers, too. In ten innings.