Since it was raining I ran at the gym and discovered that a great many people in our city appear to have made fitness-related New Year's resolutions, as every single stinkin' treadmill machine was occupied with people talking loudly (indoor voice, people!) about how much they'd overeaten during the holidays, God bless 'em.
So a couple of folks in the small group of runners with whom I'm running the LA Marathon started laughingly calling me "coach"; I tend to think of myself more as their cheerleader, only without the pleated skirt and ponytail (wait, does that make me like W? Gadzooks!), but since we may be running a modestly difficult trail near my house soon and therefore any aches and pains would be indirectly my fault, I've been trying to come up with a pre-run pep-talk, and it goes a little something like this:
If you were a skateboarder during the 80's you may remember using the term "poseur" as one of derision. Nowadays the kids are calling 'em "tryhards", as in "they're trying too hard", but the idea's basically the same. Usually, poseurs were kids who came from moneyed families so they had all of the skateboarder's gear, the Vision Streetwear hooded sweatshirt, the Bones Brigade t-shirt, the Air Jordan Nike high-tops, the carefully folded issue of "Transworld Skateboarding" magazine tucked into the back pocket of their Quicksilver shorts.
The problem was that even though they dressed the part, they couldn't play it - they'd dress like skaters but couldn't really skate. Their expensive equipment didn't bear the marks of hard use, and what rankled was their implicit attitude that looking like skaters made them skaters, when in fact it's vice-versa, isn't it?
I mean, that's part of the problem with the Taliban - well, besides all of the not-allowing-girls-to-be-educated, public executions, etc. It's not solely that the Taliban's interpretation of Islam is incorrect, nor is it that they're in Waziristan sporting Powell Peralta t-shirts under their robes. Rather, the problem I'd like to draw your attention to is that the Taliban are religious poseurs: they seem to think that acting holy is what makes you holy, just like skating poseurs thought that acting like skaters - the attire, the swagger, etc. - made them skaters. The Taliban, like poseurs, have it all backwards by thinking that by forcing people to abide by their laws and therefore making people act holy will make them holy, but instead, if you are in the presence of God then you will behave as though you are in the presence of God, if you have been made holy then you will act holy, not holier-than-thou.
You may have guessed where I'm going with all of this stuff (or maybe not): we're not running to become runners, but rather, we run because we are runners.
Did I just blow your mind? Thought so. But think of it! If all human beings, no matter one's shape, tall and gangly or short and squat, round or thin, etc. etc, were meant to be runners, doesn't that change the equation, or flip the script, as the kids are saying nowadays? If people were made to be runners, then maybe it isn't crazy that we could run for miles and miles. If people are born runners, then not only can we run 26.2, 50, even 100 miles, but we were meant to run that much.
What strikes me is the incredulity that people respond with when I present that idea to them, that they couldn't possibly run like that, which I think is such a shame because that means that these folks presuppose their limitations. It seems to me that they've already decided on what's impossible, rather than having the curiosity to explore what is possible.
And that's something I find terribly exciting: like the potential that exists in the thought that if I have been made holy I can do holy things, if I am a runner, what kind of unholy distances am I capable of?
I run like a Presbyterian!
New Year's Run with Resolutioners
15 min. on the Elliptical
4.03 mi. 35 min. 8:41 pace.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Running Revyou: Tron: Legacy, 3D, and Why Not, Jeff Bridges
It has been a couple of days since I saw Tron: Legacy (in 3D), and I've finally formed some thoughts about the movie.
I shoulda loved it - this film was targeted like a Predator drone strike at an audience just like me, nerdy Gen-Xers who saw the first one and fell madly a-tizzy, desperately wishing for light-cycles and skin-tight outfits with neon piping and helmets, imagining a created universe where our pale and chubby selves suddenly deserved skin-tight outfits and maybe didn't need helmets anymore but wore them just because they made us look cool. To give you a sense of how bad it was, I pored over the encyclopedia - Worldbook, not Britannica (we're not made of money, son!) - looking for a "tron" entry, not realizing that it was a fragment of a portmanteau ("electron", duh), but searching for more of that glowy universe with disc battles. And although Tron: Legacy was entertaining and stylish enough, it just wasn't as satisfying.
Forget the number of licks, I can get to the tootsie-roll filled pith of the problem in just one bite: the internet is already here.
I mean, that was why we nerds geeked out so hard over the original Tron - unless you were reading William Gibson at the time, or even if you were, no one had ever conceived of an entire world generated inside a computer, Neal Stephenson hadn't yet used the term "avatar" (and forget about James Cameron smurfing it up), and the interwebs hadn't even had a glimmer of Second Life fizzling in a storm of penis-shaped avatars. Sure, Tron: Legacy was stylish (what does it say about me now that what got me excited was, "wow, are those real Herman Miller chairs? That's a nice dining set. I love Kevin Flynn's apartment!"), but unlike the first one it wasn't style-defining.
What they did get right were the light-cycles, and I guess this is where the running part comes in. Unlike the first movie, where the characters just sort of leaned over and grabbed little rods of light around which their conveyances digitally accreted, Tron: Legacy had a much cooler transformation - the characters run for several steps before leaping into the air hunched over in the stance that they take as they become the cycles themselves. It's perfect running form, beautifully captured in slow-motion and skin-tight outfits, falling forward and catching themselves with the ideal midfoot strike. If the movie did nothing else, it serves as a terrific instructional video for good running form.
A brief aside about 3D: since Tron: Legacy was actually filmed in a 3D format I felt I should watch it that way. I noticed that filmmakers, or at least this one, seem to be resorting to old 3D gimmicks like having something jump out of the screen to provoke a startle. Another criticism is that adding depth to the screen seems oddly to diminish it; adding the third dimension seems to draw attention to the fact that it's stuck in this 1.44:1 aspect ratio, that it's stuck in this box. It may be because I'm not a creative type, but I just can't imagine a way that adding 3D would enhance a story's dramatic narrative - Precious wouldn't have been made any better had I been able to see Gabourey Sidibe's baby-bump in the third dimension.
Much of the rest of the film is a jumbled cacophony, fun, but a mess. Jeff Bridges basically plays The Dude from The Big Lebowski inside a computer. This more weathered Bridges' face is terrifically suited for that expression that says I have just been destroyed, as if Kali had just appeared as a plot-point (c.f. him in True Grit). By the way, for all that talk about the CG young Jeff Bridges being so uncannily true-to-life, the only accuracy is that it was uncanny - the CG young Bridges just looks weird, I'm talking Polar Express levels of weird. Wesley Snipes' character was campy and great, but 28 years ago his character would have been played by David Bowie himself rather than just a really good evocation of him. The philosophical themes were right on the mark for a fan base stuck at the age of 12; the writers couldn't seem to figure out if Flynn senior was right or not in his cyber-Buddhism - perhaps they were saying that you have to embrace your past and let go of your future, but I kinda think that's both glibly wrong-headed and giving the film too much credit. If anything, perhaps you could say that Tron: Legacy, with its musings about the Promethean error of human-borne attempts at perfection, forms a better bookend to Black Swan than does The Wrestler. Or maybe I'm giving myself too much credit.
At least they got the light-cycles right. Although, perhaps since this is supposed to be a blog about running/exercise and is colored greenly, we shoulda been asking for light-bicycles.
The movie was kinda more this guy:
Actually, he's kinda awesome.
A Very Hilly, Very Muddy Run, No Light-Cycles, No Light-Bicycles Either
6.55 mi. 1 hr:0 min:57 sec. 9:18 pace.
I shoulda loved it - this film was targeted like a Predator drone strike at an audience just like me, nerdy Gen-Xers who saw the first one and fell madly a-tizzy, desperately wishing for light-cycles and skin-tight outfits with neon piping and helmets, imagining a created universe where our pale and chubby selves suddenly deserved skin-tight outfits and maybe didn't need helmets anymore but wore them just because they made us look cool. To give you a sense of how bad it was, I pored over the encyclopedia - Worldbook, not Britannica (we're not made of money, son!) - looking for a "tron" entry, not realizing that it was a fragment of a portmanteau ("electron", duh), but searching for more of that glowy universe with disc battles. And although Tron: Legacy was entertaining and stylish enough, it just wasn't as satisfying.
Forget the number of licks, I can get to the tootsie-roll filled pith of the problem in just one bite: the internet is already here.
I mean, that was why we nerds geeked out so hard over the original Tron - unless you were reading William Gibson at the time, or even if you were, no one had ever conceived of an entire world generated inside a computer, Neal Stephenson hadn't yet used the term "avatar" (and forget about James Cameron smurfing it up), and the interwebs hadn't even had a glimmer of Second Life fizzling in a storm of penis-shaped avatars. Sure, Tron: Legacy was stylish (what does it say about me now that what got me excited was, "wow, are those real Herman Miller chairs? That's a nice dining set. I love Kevin Flynn's apartment!"), but unlike the first one it wasn't style-defining.
What they did get right were the light-cycles, and I guess this is where the running part comes in. Unlike the first movie, where the characters just sort of leaned over and grabbed little rods of light around which their conveyances digitally accreted, Tron: Legacy had a much cooler transformation - the characters run for several steps before leaping into the air hunched over in the stance that they take as they become the cycles themselves. It's perfect running form, beautifully captured in slow-motion and skin-tight outfits, falling forward and catching themselves with the ideal midfoot strike. If the movie did nothing else, it serves as a terrific instructional video for good running form.
A brief aside about 3D: since Tron: Legacy was actually filmed in a 3D format I felt I should watch it that way. I noticed that filmmakers, or at least this one, seem to be resorting to old 3D gimmicks like having something jump out of the screen to provoke a startle. Another criticism is that adding depth to the screen seems oddly to diminish it; adding the third dimension seems to draw attention to the fact that it's stuck in this 1.44:1 aspect ratio, that it's stuck in this box. It may be because I'm not a creative type, but I just can't imagine a way that adding 3D would enhance a story's dramatic narrative - Precious wouldn't have been made any better had I been able to see Gabourey Sidibe's baby-bump in the third dimension.
Much of the rest of the film is a jumbled cacophony, fun, but a mess. Jeff Bridges basically plays The Dude from The Big Lebowski inside a computer. This more weathered Bridges' face is terrifically suited for that expression that says I have just been destroyed, as if Kali had just appeared as a plot-point (c.f. him in True Grit). By the way, for all that talk about the CG young Jeff Bridges being so uncannily true-to-life, the only accuracy is that it was uncanny - the CG young Bridges just looks weird, I'm talking Polar Express levels of weird. Wesley Snipes' character was campy and great, but 28 years ago his character would have been played by David Bowie himself rather than just a really good evocation of him. The philosophical themes were right on the mark for a fan base stuck at the age of 12; the writers couldn't seem to figure out if Flynn senior was right or not in his cyber-Buddhism - perhaps they were saying that you have to embrace your past and let go of your future, but I kinda think that's both glibly wrong-headed and giving the film too much credit. If anything, perhaps you could say that Tron: Legacy, with its musings about the Promethean error of human-borne attempts at perfection, forms a better bookend to Black Swan than does The Wrestler. Or maybe I'm giving myself too much credit.
At least they got the light-cycles right. Although, perhaps since this is supposed to be a blog about running/exercise and is colored greenly, we shoulda been asking for light-bicycles.
The movie was kinda more this guy:
A Very Hilly, Very Muddy Run, No Light-Cycles, No Light-Bicycles Either
6.55 mi. 1 hr:0 min:57 sec. 9:18 pace.
Friday, December 24, 2010
The Holidays Can Be Heartbreaking
Whew! So the wife and I have survived the sprinkling that Southern California has received over the past week with scant damage; our little house is in the downtown area of our city so it's surrounded by concrete and adequate drainage, so the only problem I've discovered so far is that the moisture has made the redwood gate to our newish front fence swell to the point that we can't open it, so we've got to wait for a couple of days of sunshine to dry it out a bit - much milder than the flooding some other places have gotten.
A casual run this morning, and then off to work this afternoon. Now, you'll thank me for this info later, say, in the event that you've got to ever make a trip in, but for any modern Emergency Department the busiest times (and therefore the longest waits) are Fridays, largely because clinics are closing and people can't get in to see their regular doctors and therefore have to see their irregular doctors, i.e. yours truly, and Mondays, because clinics have been closed over the weekend and people haven't been able to see their regular doctors and therefore etc. etc. (Once everyone else realizes that the world actually runs on a 24/7/365 schedule and doesn't shut down simply because you've put out the "closed for business" sign, perhaps I'll be able to get that cocktail at 4:30 in the morning... besides at airports...)
Besides that, the other busiest times tend be the day before, and then the day after, a holiday. You can imagine that in addition to clinic closures, the day before a holiday people are rushing around to finish last-minute tasks, tempers flare, anticipation makes the blood boil, and so on. The day of a holiday tends to be a bit more relaxed, as most people who are well enough to be home stay at home where they spend the day oversalting the food they're overeating, arguing with semi-estranged family members, temporarily trebling their 2,000 kcal ADA diets... it's all of the expectation, I tell you - when you expect people to be happy you're essentially demanding they be happy and when they're not the disappointment can be crushing and then the day following is spent mopping up the destruction that remains.
I'm not encouraging anyone to be grinchy by any means (although I've had that reputation in the past); rather, I would like for everyone to relax with the expectations, let people be who they are, learn to forgive, learn to be grateful, and when things don't go your way, learn to let go. The best holiday t.v. show (besides the Charlie Brown Christmas - best holiday t.v. special ever!) was the M*A*S*H episode "Death Takes a Holiday" - remember that one? (As an aside, I realize that I'm a bit zealous about confirming to everyone that I am, in all of the meanings of the word, an American through and through, but Korean people, you know I still love you, and I want to encourage you all to start writing about something besides the Korean War already - there's so much else to gripe about.) (Double aside - M*A*S*H is the best medical show ever. It was funny, it was dramatic, it was medically accurate - Alan Alda tells a story about being in South America with a bowel obstruction, and as the surgeon describes the operation he's about to undergo, Alan Alda goes, "hey, that's an end-to-end anastamosis!") B.J. doesn't want the man they're operating on to die on Christmas Day, so Hawkeye simply turns the clock forward so they can declare him on the 26th - I love me some Hawkeye Pierce.
The message: stay healthy during the holidays, keep exercising but remember it's okay to take a day or two off, and hey, I like you, so try not to come to my workplace as a guest!
Postdiluvian Sun-Run
5.04 mi. 39 min.:19 sec. 7:48 pace.
A casual run this morning, and then off to work this afternoon. Now, you'll thank me for this info later, say, in the event that you've got to ever make a trip in, but for any modern Emergency Department the busiest times (and therefore the longest waits) are Fridays, largely because clinics are closing and people can't get in to see their regular doctors and therefore have to see their irregular doctors, i.e. yours truly, and Mondays, because clinics have been closed over the weekend and people haven't been able to see their regular doctors and therefore etc. etc. (Once everyone else realizes that the world actually runs on a 24/7/365 schedule and doesn't shut down simply because you've put out the "closed for business" sign, perhaps I'll be able to get that cocktail at 4:30 in the morning... besides at airports...)
Besides that, the other busiest times tend be the day before, and then the day after, a holiday. You can imagine that in addition to clinic closures, the day before a holiday people are rushing around to finish last-minute tasks, tempers flare, anticipation makes the blood boil, and so on. The day of a holiday tends to be a bit more relaxed, as most people who are well enough to be home stay at home where they spend the day oversalting the food they're overeating, arguing with semi-estranged family members, temporarily trebling their 2,000 kcal ADA diets... it's all of the expectation, I tell you - when you expect people to be happy you're essentially demanding they be happy and when they're not the disappointment can be crushing and then the day following is spent mopping up the destruction that remains.
I'm not encouraging anyone to be grinchy by any means (although I've had that reputation in the past); rather, I would like for everyone to relax with the expectations, let people be who they are, learn to forgive, learn to be grateful, and when things don't go your way, learn to let go. The best holiday t.v. show (besides the Charlie Brown Christmas - best holiday t.v. special ever!) was the M*A*S*H episode "Death Takes a Holiday" - remember that one? (As an aside, I realize that I'm a bit zealous about confirming to everyone that I am, in all of the meanings of the word, an American through and through, but Korean people, you know I still love you, and I want to encourage you all to start writing about something besides the Korean War already - there's so much else to gripe about.) (Double aside - M*A*S*H is the best medical show ever. It was funny, it was dramatic, it was medically accurate - Alan Alda tells a story about being in South America with a bowel obstruction, and as the surgeon describes the operation he's about to undergo, Alan Alda goes, "hey, that's an end-to-end anastamosis!") B.J. doesn't want the man they're operating on to die on Christmas Day, so Hawkeye simply turns the clock forward so they can declare him on the 26th - I love me some Hawkeye Pierce.
The message: stay healthy during the holidays, keep exercising but remember it's okay to take a day or two off, and hey, I like you, so try not to come to my workplace as a guest!
Postdiluvian Sun-Run
5.04 mi. 39 min.:19 sec. 7:48 pace.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Nike Free Run+ Review - Update!
I feel terrific today - 2010 shoulda realized that it's got nothing on me!
And even though it's pouring outside I felt like running outside, except I didn't, because I wanted to be sure that my shoes were dry in time for tomorrow's run, and that led me to think it's high time for a bit of an update, a review review.
The Nike Free Run+ are meant to be worn sockless, with a lightweight mesh upper that's meant to be sock-like, and I tried that in the beginning, but quickly developed a few hot spots that blistered - ugh. So instead, I did what some other folks have been doing by taking out the insole and wearing socks to make up the difference in inside-shoe volume with the added advantage of lending the sole greater flexibility. Which is how I've been running for the approximately 500 miles I've put on them since I bought the pair of shoes in August. So figuring that I've probably given them maybe just enough time to break in I thought I'd try them today the way they were meant to be worn, and with great success. I might even run the LA Marathon sockless.
I love rain! My feet don't hurt! I feel great! Runner's high, apparently!
Rainy Day Treadmill Run For Dry Shoes and Prevention of Pneumonia
5.06 mi. 45 min. 8:53 pace. "Wolf Blitzer: The Situation Room" w/Candy Crowley filling in for the Blitz, and "John King: USA" on the t.v.
And even though it's pouring outside I felt like running outside, except I didn't, because I wanted to be sure that my shoes were dry in time for tomorrow's run, and that led me to think it's high time for a bit of an update, a review review.
The Nike Free Run+ are meant to be worn sockless, with a lightweight mesh upper that's meant to be sock-like, and I tried that in the beginning, but quickly developed a few hot spots that blistered - ugh. So instead, I did what some other folks have been doing by taking out the insole and wearing socks to make up the difference in inside-shoe volume with the added advantage of lending the sole greater flexibility. Which is how I've been running for the approximately 500 miles I've put on them since I bought the pair of shoes in August. So figuring that I've probably given them maybe just enough time to break in I thought I'd try them today the way they were meant to be worn, and with great success. I might even run the LA Marathon sockless.
I love rain! My feet don't hurt! I feel great! Runner's high, apparently!
Rainy Day Treadmill Run For Dry Shoes and Prevention of Pneumonia
5.06 mi. 45 min. 8:53 pace. "Wolf Blitzer: The Situation Room" w/Candy Crowley filling in for the Blitz, and "John King: USA" on the t.v.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Running Revue: Mindfulness
It's mid-December and fall has finally arrived in Southern California.
Now, I'm not one for all of that year's-end-new-year reset business, 'cause face it, I'm really at core a Westerner and as such a believer in forward motion and progress, and all of that Eastern cyclicality stuff doesn't resonate with me, but I'm pretty ready for 2010 to be over.
Not only has it been a year of a number of personal setbacks but I'm now also working on my third cold of the season, which means that I'm buying out my pharmacy's stock of decongestants and may have to turn to local meth dealers ("no, you don't understand, I don't want the finished product, I want the Sudafed") for relief. I'm looking forward to 2010 being over.
But one of the things that I'm learning is to be grateful for the way things are, even the crummy stuff, to be thankful for what is in the present - gratitude is why Thanksgiving rules the holidays in my book, way better than the ambition, the greed, and the crass commercialism of contemporary Christmases. That mindfulness, presence, means that I appreciate this moment, let go of the past, and hope for the future. Being in the moment - you can tell that it's powerful and worth something because, ironically, it was when Faust finally learned to be in the present that the Devil came for his soul. Being in the moment gave the Star Wars prequels their only cool scene, that one where Qui-Gon Jinn is stuck in that weird, pointless series of force-field airlocks while he's giving chase to Darth Maul, and instead of pacing in agitation he just accepts the moment, shuts of his lightsaber and kneels to wait. *SPOILER ALERT* Sure, things didn't turn out the way he'd hoped, but accepting even defeat was when Obi Wan became really cool in the first Star Wars movie.
And just like being thankful for the past is part of being now, not being afraid of the future is part of being mindful, not worrying if 2011 will be like 2010, letting go of the what if I do a bad job, what if nobody likes me, what if Darth Maul lightsabers me through the breadbasket.
So even though 2010 majored in Suckness in the undergraduate college of life, I'm grateful, and come to think of it, there's actually a lot of good stuff that happened this year too (like running and starting this blog). When I run, I can't let the distance ahead of me daunt me, I can't do anything about the mile that just passed, I can only put one foot in front of the other, and it's not whether you win or lose, it's whether you get to date the cheerleaders at the end (and my wife was a cheerleader, thank you very much). Life isn't a marathon, it's an ultramarathon, with all of the attendant aches, pains, and sweat drying onto salty patches on your skin, along with the good stuff, like Antoine Dodson, double rainbows, and the alleged runner's high that everyone keeps talking about and that I have yet to experience. And like the cool kids are saying, I've got to pick myself up, dust my shoulders off, and keep going. Because if I don't keep moving, I don't get to eat.
Wait a minute... overly general platitudes... vague positivity... so this is the runner's high... I always thought being high meant that there'd be more hallucinating involved...
A Casual Jog, More Like a Stroll, in the Damp
6.93 mi. 56 min.:52 sec. 8:12 pace.
Now, I'm not one for all of that year's-end-new-year reset business, 'cause face it, I'm really at core a Westerner and as such a believer in forward motion and progress, and all of that Eastern cyclicality stuff doesn't resonate with me, but I'm pretty ready for 2010 to be over.
Not only has it been a year of a number of personal setbacks but I'm now also working on my third cold of the season, which means that I'm buying out my pharmacy's stock of decongestants and may have to turn to local meth dealers ("no, you don't understand, I don't want the finished product, I want the Sudafed") for relief. I'm looking forward to 2010 being over.
But one of the things that I'm learning is to be grateful for the way things are, even the crummy stuff, to be thankful for what is in the present - gratitude is why Thanksgiving rules the holidays in my book, way better than the ambition, the greed, and the crass commercialism of contemporary Christmases. That mindfulness, presence, means that I appreciate this moment, let go of the past, and hope for the future. Being in the moment - you can tell that it's powerful and worth something because, ironically, it was when Faust finally learned to be in the present that the Devil came for his soul. Being in the moment gave the Star Wars prequels their only cool scene, that one where Qui-Gon Jinn is stuck in that weird, pointless series of force-field airlocks while he's giving chase to Darth Maul, and instead of pacing in agitation he just accepts the moment, shuts of his lightsaber and kneels to wait. *SPOILER ALERT* Sure, things didn't turn out the way he'd hoped, but accepting even defeat was when Obi Wan became really cool in the first Star Wars movie.
And just like being thankful for the past is part of being now, not being afraid of the future is part of being mindful, not worrying if 2011 will be like 2010, letting go of the what if I do a bad job, what if nobody likes me, what if Darth Maul lightsabers me through the breadbasket.
So even though 2010 majored in Suckness in the undergraduate college of life, I'm grateful, and come to think of it, there's actually a lot of good stuff that happened this year too (like running and starting this blog). When I run, I can't let the distance ahead of me daunt me, I can't do anything about the mile that just passed, I can only put one foot in front of the other, and it's not whether you win or lose, it's whether you get to date the cheerleaders at the end (and my wife was a cheerleader, thank you very much). Life isn't a marathon, it's an ultramarathon, with all of the attendant aches, pains, and sweat drying onto salty patches on your skin, along with the good stuff, like Antoine Dodson, double rainbows, and the alleged runner's high that everyone keeps talking about and that I have yet to experience. And like the cool kids are saying, I've got to pick myself up, dust my shoulders off, and keep going. Because if I don't keep moving, I don't get to eat.
Wait a minute... overly general platitudes... vague positivity... so this is the runner's high... I always thought being high meant that there'd be more hallucinating involved...
A Casual Jog, More Like a Stroll, in the Damp
6.93 mi. 56 min.:52 sec. 8:12 pace.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
I Feel the Need... the Need... For Distance...
I have a dog his name is Fido
I have raised him from a pup
He can stand up on his hind legs
If you hold his front legs up
(If you hold his front legs up)
Little did I realize when I learned that song as a kid (in Boy Scout chorale of all things - my merit badges were in alto soloing and beadwork - could my childhood have been any gayer?) that it was actually a paean of pride in domestic mediocrity, the pleasure the child singing takes in his Woebegone dog's ability to perform a minor feat provided it has some assistance.
It's an entirely natural inclination to take pride in the things with which one identifies, but it's when you start to conceive of a world around you and understand your limitations with respect to that world that you grow out of childhood and become an adult. It's not that the limitations are a bad thing, but rather a mature understanding of who you are. For example, when Bruce Wayne says that Batman has no limitations, he's both right and wrong - the persona of Batman is what allows Bruce to extend beyond himself and perform heroic acts, but he himself as Bruce Wayne is the one acting as Batman, and as such it would be healthier for him to begin to understand those limits and thus become a mature superhero (c.f. Aquaman in retirement) (okay, I made that one up. c.f. the Green Lantern in retirement, or perhaps Middle-Aged Man) (wow, circa 90's Mike Myers, in a tip of the bruque to all you hosers out there) (eh).
The point being that I am under no illusions that I could ever be the fastest and win a race, like the L.A. Marathon. I mean, there's the educator in me who wants to tell everyone that they can do whatever it is that they set their minds on, sky's the limit etc. etc., but come on, there's no way I'm ever going to be the first one to break the tape at one of these things, and part of the point of the above Batman digression is that I don't have to be. There's a whole lotta talk about how in a race your only true opponent is yourself, but I think of that as a bunch of new age nonsense, blah blah blah, 'cause I mean, come on, how do you beat yourself, with a mirror? Punching yourself in the face? Come on! To me, the whole challenge has been just to finish, to see how far I can actually run, how long I can keep putting one Nike in front of the other, how far I can challenge myself to keep going (oh - I get that whole "your only opponent is yourself" thing now) despite the desire to stop, sit down and eat a burrito instead.
The point for me is to see how far I can run, the speed thing really is secondary (perhaps I can think of these distances in terms of how much chocolate milk I get to drink - I could say how many Chocolate Milk Equivalents I ran today) since I know I'm not winning. Which makes me wonder about the giving out of medals to all finishers of marathons. On the one hand, I get it, just finishing makes you a winner and all, but on the other hand, isn't that kinda saying we're all above average - essentially, that we can stand up on our hind legs provided someone holds our front legs up? 'Cuz after all, the point, and perhaps the new mantra, is just finish.
Two Dam Hilly
10.14 mi. 1 hr:31 min:02 sec. 8:58 pace.
I have raised him from a pup
He can stand up on his hind legs
If you hold his front legs up
(If you hold his front legs up)
Little did I realize when I learned that song as a kid (in Boy Scout chorale of all things - my merit badges were in alto soloing and beadwork - could my childhood have been any gayer?) that it was actually a paean of pride in domestic mediocrity, the pleasure the child singing takes in his Woebegone dog's ability to perform a minor feat provided it has some assistance.
It's an entirely natural inclination to take pride in the things with which one identifies, but it's when you start to conceive of a world around you and understand your limitations with respect to that world that you grow out of childhood and become an adult. It's not that the limitations are a bad thing, but rather a mature understanding of who you are. For example, when Bruce Wayne says that Batman has no limitations, he's both right and wrong - the persona of Batman is what allows Bruce to extend beyond himself and perform heroic acts, but he himself as Bruce Wayne is the one acting as Batman, and as such it would be healthier for him to begin to understand those limits and thus become a mature superhero (c.f. Aquaman in retirement) (okay, I made that one up. c.f. the Green Lantern in retirement, or perhaps Middle-Aged Man) (wow, circa 90's Mike Myers, in a tip of the bruque to all you hosers out there) (eh).
The point being that I am under no illusions that I could ever be the fastest and win a race, like the L.A. Marathon. I mean, there's the educator in me who wants to tell everyone that they can do whatever it is that they set their minds on, sky's the limit etc. etc., but come on, there's no way I'm ever going to be the first one to break the tape at one of these things, and part of the point of the above Batman digression is that I don't have to be. There's a whole lotta talk about how in a race your only true opponent is yourself, but I think of that as a bunch of new age nonsense, blah blah blah, 'cause I mean, come on, how do you beat yourself, with a mirror? Punching yourself in the face? Come on! To me, the whole challenge has been just to finish, to see how far I can actually run, how long I can keep putting one Nike in front of the other, how far I can challenge myself to keep going (oh - I get that whole "your only opponent is yourself" thing now) despite the desire to stop, sit down and eat a burrito instead.
The point for me is to see how far I can run, the speed thing really is secondary (perhaps I can think of these distances in terms of how much chocolate milk I get to drink - I could say how many Chocolate Milk Equivalents I ran today) since I know I'm not winning. Which makes me wonder about the giving out of medals to all finishers of marathons. On the one hand, I get it, just finishing makes you a winner and all, but on the other hand, isn't that kinda saying we're all above average - essentially, that we can stand up on our hind legs provided someone holds our front legs up? 'Cuz after all, the point, and perhaps the new mantra, is just finish.
Two Dam Hilly
10.14 mi. 1 hr:31 min:02 sec. 8:58 pace.
Monday, December 13, 2010
There's No Pace Like "Om" for the Holidays
Okay, so this post has nothing to do with the holidays whatsoever, except that it's now, during the holidays, that I've decided that I need a mantra. For when I'm running.
Apparently, it helps to have a word or a phrase that you can repeat to yourself (in your head) (so if your mantra is "blood", you're not running down the street muttering, "blood, Blood, BLOOD") that'll allow you to escape your present circumstance and transport you away from your aching knees and into the much-vaunted and I think probably overrated "runner's high" (I mean, come on, how high are you really going to get for free?) (and frankly, I think the "high" is just a bit of cerebral hypoxia making you feel spacey). Seeing as how namyohorengekyo is already taken, it looks like I've gotta keep looking.
My friend Orrine had offered to let me use hers, but I'm afraid I've already forgotten what it is, and mantras are probably a bit like mnemonics, it's best when you come up with your own.
Like, I was going to try using "Obama, Biden, Obama, Biden," but I guess that one's my wife's.
Another Run on the Former Train Tracks by my House and Then Down to the Park
5.01 mi. 43 min. 8:38 pace.
Apparently, it helps to have a word or a phrase that you can repeat to yourself (in your head) (so if your mantra is "blood", you're not running down the street muttering, "blood, Blood, BLOOD") that'll allow you to escape your present circumstance and transport you away from your aching knees and into the much-vaunted and I think probably overrated "runner's high" (I mean, come on, how high are you really going to get for free?) (and frankly, I think the "high" is just a bit of cerebral hypoxia making you feel spacey). Seeing as how namyohorengekyo is already taken, it looks like I've gotta keep looking.
My friend Orrine had offered to let me use hers, but I'm afraid I've already forgotten what it is, and mantras are probably a bit like mnemonics, it's best when you come up with your own.
Like, I was going to try using "Obama, Biden, Obama, Biden," but I guess that one's my wife's.
Another Run on the Former Train Tracks by my House and Then Down to the Park
5.01 mi. 43 min. 8:38 pace.
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