Run with me again.

This will be short, nothing important. I want to get in the habit of blogging a little bit every day, only if to keep myself in the habit. I know it is rather self-indulgent to think that anyone cares what I think about on a daily basis, but to fulfill the prediction of the radio DJ I listened to at lunch, I must become a “delusional narcissist” and I think that includes having a blog.

I complain many times on this blog. I complain about sex, my job, my wife, a little bit about everything, but today is a good day.  I will not complain.

I woke up on time and made it down to my gym as a beautiful sunrise was cresting the hill. I sent the picture off to a friend and she responded with admiration of the photograph and just seeing her name in my inbox makes me happy.  The weather was perfect. I should not gloat over my snowbound friends but there is a reason everyone loves California. It is because of days like today, in January.

I am going to a new gym so I decided to stick to a familiar road as to not get lost. I don’t really get lost, but some routes are dead ends, some take me the long way around when I’m not in the mood for the long way, and some are just boring. About 2/10 of a mile into my run I saw a trail. My neighborhood has lots of trails, a throwback to the time when horses actually lived in my Valley. I’m a sucker for a trail, especially when it goes along the river. So I took it.

Like most paths in my area and ran along the cement River carved as part of a flood control plan that seeks to keep nature in check, rivers within their banks, and trees growing in proper lines. But it is pretty, so I ran.

 

The trail lasted a little over a mile and then it kicked me back out to a sidewalk.  The sidewalk ended, then the road ended, and I ended up in a Park. The Avenue turned into a street which turned into a one lane road that wound itself between the trees and the craggy rock outcroppings and deeper and deeper into the canyon. After a couple of miles I passed a small preserved historical mining town. “Town” is the wrong word for it as all that is left is two or three buildings. But at one point it was the start of the oil and mining industry in my neighborhood. I passed through and continued on until my watch chimed at the 3.1 mile mark. I had stopped to take pictures along the way so my time wasn’t great, but I knew I would make up for it on the downhill return.

I love running when I don’t know where I am going. I love having the confidence that I can find a trail, take it, and have the energy and wherewithal to get back. I have told many people that I run until I am half tired and then I turned around. I like it with a bit of uncertainty.

3 miles from my gym and I was all alone.  If you are there with me we could have stripped down and played for hours without being seen. We could’ve kissed on the big rock at the turnaround and tanned ourselves under the winter sun. We would have had the forest to ourselves and it made me smile as I returned.

I write my little Monday updates on fitness, but it is days like today the keep me motivated. Days when I can find a new trail and run, days when I can find a new path and explore.

Come run with me.

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Spring Break - Day 1

Privacy is a vanishing commodity.  Not the privacy from government, not the privacy of prying eyes on the Internet, of hackers looking to steal your life's story through credit cards or ID #'s, but physical privacy, the ability to just be alone.

I miss that most now that I am unemployed.  I miss going to the office, doing my work, closing the door, and being alone.  Not the alone time of play (which I miss), or the alone time for the web (I miss that too), but I miss the physical separation of just being alone.

Perhaps that is why I like running so much, and why I have never run with a club or a team since high school.  I will run with you if you are cute, maybe, or if you have a tight ass wrapped in lycra, or because you make me laugh and because you know the name of every flower we pass, or maybe because your natural eye for beauty amazes me.

I'll go run with you to hear your story and help you burn away the tears, but mostly I run alone.  I'm not fast, I have only won a single race, years ago, an inconsequential race among teenagers just learning to stretch their legs and compete on the road.

I learned a long time ago that the solo run is what makes me smile.  I like beating my last time, lasting a mile longer, or getting up a little earlier, or making it up the hill a little faster.  The joy of being alone is that you don’t have to explain anything.  You don’t have to justify or outline or give the back-story, or have it make sense.  Your thoughts roam where they want, when they want, and if a neat cloud or a pretty bird, or a strange rock catches your eye, it’s OK to stop and look, or take a picture, without anyone wondering why.

I love taking pictures of things no one else noticed, things that aren’t “pretty” but to me, are beautiful, artistic, interesting, or simply a record of where I was at that moment, at that frozen moment in time.

Being alone is sometimes just sitting still.  Quiet.  Calmly.  Sometimes thinking deep thoughts, sometimesnot thinking anything at all.  I am not a yoga aficionado.  I do not meditate, I rarely even contemplate anymore, but, but…there are times when I can reach a state where I am gone until something brings me back.  Sometimes 10 seconds, sometimes an hundred, here I can just stop for a bit, and let my brain relax. 

I like being alone.  I like solitude.  I miss it. 

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