Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Black History Month

Here's a good video to watch as black history month ends.

It's Kareem Abdul-Jabbar talking about his new book, "On the Shoulders of Giants," and the importance of black history month.

Another draft of the Coltrane poem

Have you heard?
John?
Have you heard?
John. St John.
Have you heard?

A bomb went off in a Baptist Church.
Four little black girls.
Dead. In Alabama.

Have you heard?
Has you heard him?
Have you felt him?
Has he touched you?
Has he touched the hem of your garment?
The man from Hamlet.
To be or not to be
is not the question.
To be or not to be
touched by tongues of fire.
That is the question.
Listen. In the blinking of an eye.
We will not all die,
but we will all be changed.
In the beginning was the word
In the beginning was the horn
In the beginning
he was approaching perfection.
The saxophonification of perfection
This sounds like jazz
is supposed to sound, right?
Blue Trane, Soul Trane, Coltrane.
Giant Steps, Naima,
My Favorite Things.
Rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens.
Coltrane for lazy Sunday afternoons.
Summertime and the living is easy.
And I'll live a lush life
in some small dive.
No. He was put here to be
much more than that.
Why does a jazz musician
have to be hooked on smack?
Fuck you heroin.
I want a hero.
I want a prophet.
I want a portal.
Give me an immortal sound
more perfect than yesterday's perfection.
Let the saxophone blow.
And every knee shall bend
and every tongue confess
that the music is
starting to change
the music has to change.
A bomb went off.
And his horn exploded
with sheets of sound.
Is this jazz, is this jazz, is this still jazz
or is this pain?
Is he a genius or a madman?
He is trying to tell me
something about God
that I do not want to know.
But Blow John Blow.
We will all die,
but will we all be changed?
I hear him chanting through his horn:
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost.
I hear him chanting:
A Love Supreme.
I hear him chanting:
Kulu se ma.
I hear him chanting:
A Love Supreme.
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost.
A Love Supreme.
Kulu Se Ma.
Kulu.
Blow John Blow!
With every hair on
the back of my neck
I feel him moving into
Interstellar Space
and this space
inside me
is filled to overflowing.

John! John!
Have you heard?
A bomb went off
John.
Four little girls.
Dead in Alabama.
Have you heard?

Another draft of this Prefontaine poem

I'm doing more editing of this poem. It's always tough when you can't read a poem because it just doesn't feel right.


A poem for Red Smith

The great sportswriter Red Smith once said, “Writing is easy. You just open a vein and bleed.”
This is a poem for Red.

“Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.”
Pre said that.
Pre said that.
Steve Prefontaine said that.
Skinny kid from Coos Bay, Oregon.
I used to get winded just saying his name.
Steve Prefontaine.
Runs like a maniac.
Runs like a work of art.
Runs like the will of God
If God would will a man
To leave all doubt of victory behind.
Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.
Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.
Damn it.
I want to be that somebody.
I want to bleed.
Do you want my blood?
Do you want my blood Steve?
I will give my blood for this.
I will suffer for my art.
Every night, I dream about racing.
I tell you what I think about
when I’m training.
Nothing.
Nothingness.
Emptiness.
Heart beating fast,
Spitting up blood on the track
Until I’ve got nothing left to spit
And then I dig deeper.
Because I know
The sun is going to shine
It always shines for Steve.
Parts the clouds at Heyward Field
Steve’s amazing.
Steve’s special.
And I?
I’m just a nobody
With a dream, a drive
And an imagination.
But listen.
I want to give him the race of his life,
the race of his afterlife even.
Because I realize it's not really
even about Steve and I
It's about about I and I
and I can't sacrifice the gift,
I can't give less than my best
And I'm not going to go easy.
I’m going to run until I can’t walk.
I’m going to run until I can’t stand.
I’m going to run until I can’t stand myself.
I can’t stop when the sun goes down.
I can’t stop when I’m tired.
I can’t stop if I can find a way to keep going.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
Because nothing good ever comes easy.

Monday's workout

I want to write about Monday's workout before I forget.

I went to the Y to get on the treadmill and do some hills. And 8 degree incline at least. Maybe 10 or 12 or 15 degrees.

Every treadmill was taken. I got on an elliptical trainer but I was going crazy. So after a couple of minutes I got off and went outside on a slightly hilly 3 mile loop downtown I like to run.

Then I got back to the Y, hopped on a treadmill and ran a 7:30 mile. It was a tough finish to the workout, but it felt good. And I felt that I probably could have run faster.

I remember when I thought that 10 minute miles were fast. That was a long time ago. My goal for the year is a 21-minute 5K. With hard work, I think I can accomplish that in December. Or sooner.

Quote of the day

"There's no such thing as bad weather, just soft people."
-Bill Bowerman

Inspiring story of success over cancer

It's early in the morning and I'm not thinking very clearly yet. But I've just read a story I want to share with you about the female winner of the Cowtown Marathon, Siri Terjesen. There's a great story from the Fort Worth newspaper about her.

Here is an excerpt:

"There are a lot of people out there who are watching a marathon who have not done one," Terjesen said, "so I think it's really important to be positive and smiley at the end so they do not think it is a death sentence."

She does not toss that term around lightly.

Only 41 days ago, Terjesen was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Scary words because, in advanced stages, it is a death sentence. Terjesen was lucky. Hers was in a very early stage and required only surgery. She was back running two weeks later.

On Saturday, 21 days after that surgery, Terjesen ran fast, faster than any other woman to win the Cowtown.

"I am very lucky that I am healthy now and very lucky to be alive and very lucky to run very well," Terjesen said. "I was thinking about whether or not to even say something about it, but I think it is really important."

A poem for Red Smith

Here's another draft of the poem that I'm going to do in the first round. Now we'll see how close I can get to memorizing it.

A poem for Red Smith

The great sportswriter Red Smith once said, “Writing is easy. You just open a vein and bleed.”
This is a poem for Red.

“Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.”
Pre said that.
Pre said that.
Steve Prefontaine said that.
Skinny kid from Coos Bay, Oregon.
I used to get winded just saying his name.
Steve Prefontaine.
Runs like a maniac.
Runs like a work of art.
Runs like the will of God
If God would will a man
To leave all doubt of victory behind.
Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.
Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.
Damn it.
I want to be that somebody.
I want to bleed.
Do you want my blood?
Do you want my blood Steve?
I’ve got blood to give.
I’ve got heart.
I’ve got desire.
I’ve got passion.
What do I think about when I’m running?
You mean
What do I think about when I’m training?
I think about nothing.
Nothingness.
Emptiness.
Heart beating fast,
Spitting up blood on the track
Until I’ve got nothing left to spit
And then I dig deeper.
Because I’ve got blood to give.
I’ve got a life to live.
I’ve got a race to run.
Yeah, I know
The sun is going to shine
It always shines for Steve.
Parts the clouds at Heyward Field
Steve’s amazing.
Steve’s special.
And I?
I’m just a nobody
With a dream
And an imagination.
But listen.
You want my blood.
You want my blood Steve?
I want to give it to you.
I want to give you the race of your life.
And I know I’m going to have to bleed to do it.
Because I realize it's not really even about Steve and I
It's about about I and I
and I know I can't sacrifice the gift,
I can't give less than my best
And I'm not going to go easy.
I’m going to go until I bleed.
I’m going to bleed for a reason.
I’m going to bleed for a dream.
I’m going to run until I can’t walk.
I’m going to run until I can’t stand.
I’m going to run until I can’t stand myself.
I can’t stop when the sun goes down.
I can’t stop when I’m tired.
I can’t stop if I can find a way to keep going.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
Because nothing good ever comes easy.

Slam countdown

The slam is rapidly approaching and I, of course, want to win. But I want to do something more than win.

I want to be true to my poems. I want to forget all thoughts of winning anyway. I tend to get too caught up in that.

I want to present my poems as gifts to the audience. I want the performance to be an act of love, an act of giving of myself.

And if that comes together right, than everybody wins.

But I should come out on top regardless if I prepare right.

A poem for black history month

So there's a poetry slam here on Thursday.

I've got a new poem.

It's only a draft, but at this point, I'm excited about what it might be when I'm finished with it. Or when it's finished with me.

Let me know what you think, although this is obviously meant to be experienced with your ears. (Since this is a slam, include what you think on a scale of 1-10.)


John?
Have you heard?
John?
Have you heard?
John. St John.
Have you heard?

A bomb went off in a Baptist Church.
Four little black girls.
Dead. In Birmingham, Alabama.

Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Has you heard him?
Has he touched you?
Has he touched the hem of your garment?
The man from Hamlet.
To be or not to be
is not the question.
To be or not to be
touched by tongues of fire.
That is the question.
Listen. In the blinking of an eye.
We will not all die,
but we will all be changed.
Let's go back to the beginning.
You see In the beginning
he was approaching perfection.
The saxophonication of perfection
This sounds like jazz
is supposed to sound, right?
Blue Trane, Soul Trane, Coltrane.
Giant Steps, Naima,
My Favorite Things.
Rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens.
Coltrane for lazy Sunday afternoons.
Summertime and the living is easy.
And I'll live a lush life
in some small dive.
No. He was put here to be
much more than that.
Why does a jazz musician
have to be hooked on smack?
Fuck you heroin.
I want a hero.
I want a prophet.
I want a portal.
Give me an immortal sound
more perfect than yesterday's perfection.
Let the saxophone blow.
And every knee shall bend
and every tongue confess
that the music is
starting to change
the music has to change.
A bomb went off.
Is this jazz, is this jazz, is this still jazz
or is this pain?
Is he a genius or a madman?
He is trying to tell me
something about God
that I do not want to know.
He is trying to tell me something
and I have to listen.
I don't have a choice.
So Blow John Blow.
Blow John Blow.
Now, we will all die,
but will we all be changed?
I hear him chanting through his horn:
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost.
I hear him chanting:
A Love Supreme.
I hear him chanting:
Kulu se ma.
I hear him chanting:
A Love Supreme.
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost.
A Love Supreme.
Kulu Se Ma.
Kulu.
Blow John Blow!
With every hair on my neck
I feel him moving into
Interstellar Space
and this space
inside me
is filled to overflowing.

John! John!
Have you heard?
A bomb went off
John. St. John.
Four little girls.
Dead in Alabama.
John.

Congratulations

My friend Ryan Slight, who may not even know that this blog exists, just completed his first half-marathon, the Cowtown Half-Maraton in his hometown of Fort Worth, Texas.

And what perversely makes me feel good is that his finishing time (2:19:49) was slower than my time in my first half-marathon. A full eight seconds slower. (That's a joke. Kind of.)

Anyhow, it's a feat to be proud of.

Currently, however, Ryan's 5K pr is about three seconds faster than mine. Maybe we'll start training together.

I just completed my first week since the marathon of running more than 10 miles. And I've got race plans for the near future, including a 5K on March 17.

Ryan's also got big plans for the future. He's already signed up for the Chicago Marathon.

I remember as I was getting ready for my first marathon, some friends talked about how they were excited for me and living vicariously through my experience. Now I know exactly what they were talking about.

So congratulations again to my friend Ryan.

Quote of the Week

Perhaps if you've been following this blog for a while, you've realized that my favorite magazine is TrailRunner. I love it. And everytime it shows up in my mailbox, I find something worth posting about here.

Here's my quote of the week:

"A race isn't about having fun. It is about pushing your limits. If that isn't painful, then you aren't pushing your limits. If you want to just run up Pikes Peak with a smile on your face, then do it with a bunch of friends and not in the middle of a crowd of strangers." - Bill Wright of Boulder, Colorado of the La Sportiva Mountain Running Team.

That quote speaks to me today, where I am as a runner now and where I want to be. And where I want to be is faster than I am now and faster than I was yesterday and last year. I used to really like the social aspect of races and seeing lots of cool people. But now I'm getting more and more interested in going as fast as I possibly can.

Taping nipples or story of the day

While checking out my e-mail today, I came across a fascinating newspaper story.

Here's the lead paragraph:

he first time I saw my husband, Bill, carefully apply tape to his nipples, I knew a true runner had been born. A few years ago, the president of his company threw down the gauntlet during a management meeting, telling his employees they needed to get in shape. I believe his exact words were, "You’re all fat, so I’ve signed everyone up for a marathon!"

Now you want to read the rest, right?

Racing plans

I had a pretty decent workout at the Y today. Four miles on the treadmill. Quite possibly the first time I've run four miles since the marathon.

Now, however, I feel the need to plan for new races.

So here are my plans:

March 17th - Pitter Pat 5K. A race to raise money for a crisis nursery, a local initiative to raise money to help prevent child abuse. A worthy cause.

May 12th - Wichita River Run 10K. My first 10K. A chance to run it for a third time and hopefully run a lot faster than I did the first time and the second time. Unlike last year, I'm going to focus on this race and hope to peak here in Wichita.

This gives me something to focus on. I'm pumped.

After Sunday's run, I was a bit nervous about my level of fitness. However, I got a good workout in, three hard miles on the treadmill. It may have been the best that three miles has ever felt.

I don't know much about whatever is wrong with my foot but I know I can run on it. The only time it's given me serious problems is when I've run for 18 miles or more. So, as was previously the plan, I'm just going to run shorter distances and concentrate a lot more on speed and strength this year. We'll see how that goes.

I believe that things are getting better.

Another poem about joy

I flipped open a book today and found a poem about joy, reminding me of a poem I wrote not too long ago.

It's by, as the book describes him: "the slightly crazed seer-poet William Blake."

Maybe I should study poetry to truly know more about these writers. Anyhow, the similarity between his and mine is a bit strong, I think. Check out the above link after reading this:

"Eternity," 1793

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise.

Out of shape

I went running outside for the second time since the marathon today. It seemed like the first time until I consulted my running log. Today's run was about 2.5 miles. That brings my running since the marathon to about 15 miles. It seems so sad.

Someone asked me for directions before I'd been running for five minutes. I was shocked at how hard I was breathing. I guess it's just one of those things. Use it or lose it.

I wouldn't have run outside except that the weather was amazingly beautiful. 50 degrees.

Now that I'm out of shape I have something simple to strive for. Running four days a week. I guess my feet will have something to say in the matter, but now I want small steps. Actually running three days a week would be an improvement on how I've been doing lately.

I'm not going to feel sorry for myself. I'm going to run and get back in shape.

Prescription Orthotics

Moving from poetry back to feet.

I got a call from the insurance department in my doctor's office Friday. They told me that my insurance has a deductible that kicks in after I spend $500. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your perspective) the orthotics cost $500. So I'd have to pay for them but then everything after that the insurance would pay 90 percent.

Since my foot felt worse with the faux orthotic that the doctor wrapped around it, I'm definitely not spending $500 for orthotics. Maybe I should just take some time off and make sure to buy some good spenco insoles when I do get new shoes.

I went to the shoe store yesterday, but nothing they had fit well so I just asked them to call me when they get more Asics Gel Kayanos in.

We'll see how it goes.

Words from an old notebook

I found some words from an old notebook today. Wondering if they might grow into a new poem:

If you are a liberal, I'm a conservative.
If you are a conservative, I'm a liberal.
If you are a moderate, I'm a radical.
If you are a radical, I'm the corporate media mediating how your experience is to be understood.
If you are in the wilderness, than I am a voice, crying out with you.
A voice for the voiceless and for those voices you've been trying to ignore.

to be continued???

sometimes we share a poem
because people are near
and they would notice me
noticing you
so i write X and you write O
and we both win

sometimes we share a poem
because i'm washing the dishes
and you're looking at your news

--from Nikki Giovanni, "Poetry is a Tressel"

Poetry slam alert

The next Springfield poetry slam is March 1.

I'll be working on new poems for the event and posting drafts here to help me prepare to win.

As for right now, it's been a long day.

$0.02 on poetry; or, you get what you pay for

I am your trickster rabbit
I accept this role in society as
with gracious humility
I will wreak havoc forever on you all
I will shit on the table of my host
while singing grateful praises of the meal
I will bleed the hand that bites me

I am trickster rabbit
the crusader of rags
I will rewrite all the messages on your fortune
cookies
instructing you to dial ecstasy for the
dialectic
I am the furry little clawed foot
you keep in your back pocket
the one that cuts deep into your butt
every time you sit down

-from Roland Legiardi-Laura's "Trickster Rabbit"

This is a poem that reminds me of another one ocho wrote. I have what might seem to be counter-intuitive, a book of slam poetry. It's in a select category of books that I bought just before the last time I moved and never finished reading because I lost track of how to read them once I was in a new place.

We've talked a few times about the conventions of slam poetry, and what's conventional. There's the posturing persona ones, with a lot of I am's in it. There are narrative ones. There are ones based on jazz or other musical forms.

playmingusplayplaymingusmysticmingusdivine
fingersmingusmingusprettyfingersmingusplayplay
mingusplayplaymegodmingusmyselfgodplay
mysticdivineplaymysticprettymingusgodplaymy
selfmingusmyselfdivinemingusmysticfingersgod

--from R. Cephas Jones' "God, Mingus and Myself"

What are the other conventions? I think that the usefulness of the forms and conventions is the same as stretching and different types of workouts, if you want to continue the analogy to running. It's not like you run your race in intervals. It's not like you expect that a poem you write forcing your round poem into square linebreaks is the one you're going to perform. But trying out different forms could be interesting. You might find something you like. You might just find more poets you like as you look for more forms. You might just find yourself having written a phrase you wouldn't have written otherwise.

Unsatisfied

My foot is wrapped. I don't like it.

My foot is wrapped to see if the wrap helps and if the wrap helps I'll get custom orthotics. Or prescription orthotics.

The more I think about it, the less I like the idea.

Here's why: Going back to early 2005. I'd made a new year's resolution to run a marathon. I was really out of shape. One day as part of getting in shape, I went and played basketball. I was a beast. Rebounds, blocked shots, general intimidation.

The next day, the rest of the week and the week after, my knee hurt. So I went to see my primary care doctor.

I told the doctor, sheepishly, about my hopes of running a marathon. I doubt he took me seriously.

But he gave me very valuable advice. He told me that my body wasn't as young as it used to be. It takes longer to bounce back he said. Get started slowly.

And here's the point of this story. I asked about a knee brace. He said maybe it might help. But it's better not to get dependent on it because that would make the knee weaker.

And so I never actually went and got a knee brace. I started running slowly but surely. And I can say quite definitively that my knees bothered me much, much more before I ever started running. Now that I've become a runner, my knees feel great.

This relates to the orthotic, the prospect of a prescription orthotic, in that I'd rather find a way to make my foot stronger as opposed to wearing a tool in my shoe to change the way I walk and run.

Thus I'm unsatisfied with my visit to the foot doctor and a little unsure of what I want to do next.

Doctor's visit recap

I'm still recovering a bit from my camping adventure this weekend.

But I figure I must say something about my trip to the foot doctor today. I've blogged so much about it. But I'm tired and weary from sleeping out in the cold in a sleeping bag that wasn't all that warm when the temperatures got well below freezing.

Anyhow, here's the recap of the doctor's visit. I have flat feet and fallen arches. Maybe that's redundnat. Anyhow, this led to the diagnosis of sinus tarsitis. And now my foot is currently wrapped and I may get prescription orthotics. Depending on what the insurance will cover and how well this wrapping of the foot goes. Because if the insurance doesn't cover it, it's a $400 investment, as my foot doctor said.

Anyhow, right now I kind of want to take a nap.

Putting the poetry back in poetic feet

Here's a new slam poem because there's got to be a new slam coming up soon here. Let me know what you think. (On a scale of 1-10 preferably.)
I'll put a little commentary in the comments.



A poem for Red Smith

The great sportswriter Red Smith once said, “Writing is easy. You just open a vein and bleed.”
This is a poem for Red.

“Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.”
Pre said that.
Pre said that.
Steve Prefontaine said that.
Skinny kid from Coos Bay, Oregon.
I used to get winded just saying his name.
Steve Prefontaine.
Runs like a maniac.
Runs like a work of art.
Runs like the will of God
If God would will a man
To leave all doubt of victory behind.
Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.
Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it.
Damn it.
I want to be that somebody.
I want to bleed.
Do you want my blood?
Do you want my blood Steve?
I’ve got blood to give.
I’ve got heart.
I’ve got desire.
I’ve got passion.
What do I think about when I’m running?
You mean
What do I think about when I’m training?
I think about nothing.
Nothingness.
Emptiness.
Heart beating fast,
Spitting up blood on the track
Until I’ve got nothing left to spit
And then I dig deeper.
Because I’ve got blood to give.
I’ve got a life to live.
I’ve got a race to run.
Yeah, I know
The sun is going to shine
It always shines for Steve.
Parts the clouds at Heyward Field
Steve’s amazing.
Steve’s special.
And I?
I’m just a nobody
With a dream
And an imagination.
But listen.
You want my blood.
You want my blood Steve?
I want to give it to you.
I want to give you the race of your life.
An I know I’m going to have to bleed to do it.
You better believe I’m going to bleed.
I’m going to bleed for a reason.
I’m going to bleed for a dream.
I’m going to run until I can’t walk.
I’m going to run until I can’t stand.
I’m going to run until I can’t stand myself.
I can’t stop when the sun goes down.
I can’t stop when I’m tired.
I can’t stop if I can find a way to keep going.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
Because nothing good ever comes easy.

Camping and the foot doctor

Did I mention that I was going camping this past weekend? I'm happy to survive that wilderness adventure without frostbite.
But if icing an injury is old advice, my foot definitely got iced on Saturday night.
And now I'm just hours away from my long-awaited appointment with the foot specialist. More news to come.

Pan's Labyrinth

Spoiler alert, perhaps ---

Well, I just saw Pan's Labyrinth. Amazing film.

A blog post over at the Middle Path warned of a spoiler alert, so I didn't see one.

Let me suffice to say that there is a twist that could be spoiled and you more or less could see it coming a mile away if you were looking for it. But, why look? The story is so beautifully told that it doesn't quite matter. You're not trying to figure it out, you're just watching and being carried along on a wonderful journey.

And I can't decide if the movie had a happy ending or not.

What do you think?

UN-titled

Shockingly, I continue to have nothing substantial to say on the topic of foot doctors. Another friend of mine will be off to see a physical therapist next week about her hip, but she plans to ask about her foot as well. Evidently she has the same problem that I had, only a different tendon is tearing away from the bone.

What I do have something to say about is the UN-titled Dance Co., who I saw at Unknown Theater in Los Angeles last night, performing "30 Seconds Til Left Field," a work which has been called "Contemporary Hip Hop Ballet," and is billed as a combination of "true art, a multitude of dance styles, intense theatrics, and three critically acclaimed Hip Hop Choreographers."



The descriptions in the program hardly begin to describe what you see when you go, although I won't do much better here. The dancers are extremely talented, and evening's program contains a variety of dance styles as well as groupings of dancers, from a short solo number of a man dancing with a broom, to a graceful group of women in beige leotards incorporating more elements of ballet, to a solo homage to Mr. Roger's Neighborhood (of a sort), to big group numbers that comment on being stuck in boxes or on direction, some pieces were almost a 1930's style, some contemporary, most running the gamut--I would occasionally recognize a move from either a dance I know, or from breakdancing, or from capoeira, or from tap or jazz or ballet, but overall the melange, simply put, worked.

On not running

Well, this blog is kind of an online running log. A journal of concrete steps in marathon preparation.

Except I haven't been running much lately. A whole week with no running. I feel like I probably could go running if I absolutely had to, but I'm waiting to go to the doctor now.

I've got an appointment with the foot doctor on Monday. I'm hopeful but also nervous that it will be a letdown. And if so, then what? I don't know. I'm going camping this weekend so that will be something to take my mind off running.

Instead I'll just think about how cold I'll be. But we'll see how it goes. Hopefully it will be a good weekend. Then I go to the doctor on Monday and hopefully learn something.

James Brown

I was reading an article about James Brown today in Rolling Stone and it reminded me of some cool quotes I saw in the program for one of his memorial services.
They kind of fit with the whole marathon running theme so I figured I'd post them here:

"I live as long as I can and die when I can't help it..."
"I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees."

And my favorite:

I hope you live 200 years and I live 200 years minus one day so I don't know that beautiful people like you have passed away..."

welcome to veintiuno

I'm excited about the first post from my friend veintiuno. Which is much harder to spell than ocho. But now that 21 is posting, check out the contribuyente line at the bottom to see who wrote what.

Veintiuno is one of the friends who inspired me to run marathons. And now I'm set to go to the foot doctor, of course, on Monday and hopefully get my confidence back to go out and go running again. At least on these days when I haven't been running, I've either been insanely busy or it's been ridiculously cold.

nothing substantial to say

Well, I have nothing to say about a foot doctor.

I do have something to say about the Gmap pedometer, though. It's pretty snazzy nowadays: not only can you still figure out how far you ran by double-clicking points onto a map/topo-map/aerial photo but you can also see a little graph of your total elevation change, for all those days you'd like to console yourself about the general crappiness of a run by arguing that there were hills. Now you can prove it.

So, this is my first post on this blog. It's like a door opened, and I'm in a new room.

It's pretty spacious.

Wonder what I'll put in it?

Quote of the day

"If this is something you really want then I’d go for it. Being passionate about what you do is almost better than being really good at what you do."

I can't really say where that quote came from. But the word almost is intriguing to me, fixating as I do sometimes on words.

But the most important part, of course, is the first part of the sentence: "being passionate about what you do..."

I remember being passionate about what I do. I also struggle with people who seem to put out other people's fires. People who thrive on demotivating people as Zig Ziglar says. It's like what I need to do is get as far away from those folks as possible. That, however, raises the question of how. But we'll see.

Right now I feel old because I don't want to go running until I see the doctor. Until I see the foot doctor that is. But I must run again because that's been greating for infusing more passion into my life. And that's what I need more and more of.

Luckenbach, Texas

Well, Valentine's Day is just around the corner. And I feel a bit lonely. I've been on a few dates lately, but really don't know what's going on with those relationships.

And I've got a song that keeps getting stuck in my head.

The only two things in life that make it worth living,
Is guitars tuned good and firm-feeling women.
I don’t need my name in the marquee lights,
I got my song and I got you with me tonight.
Maybe it's time we got back to the basics of love.
Let’s go to Luckenbach, Texas,

An old Willie Nelson song. You might think I'm not the type of person to like country music, but I am. I guess. Classic country especially. And classic R&B and Classic Rock and classics of all kinds. It's music that's stood the test of time. It's not the next new thing. It's not necessarily trying to sell me something.

So anyhow, six days until my visit to the foot doctor. I'm not sure how much of this lingering pain is mental but some of it definitely is. I keep thinking about my foot more now. I just want some knowledge about what's going on with my foot and what's a good idea and what's a bad idea as far as continued training. We'll see how it goes.

Eight Days

And now a different kind of countdown.

There's eight days until I go see the foot doctors. I'm actually excited about this. Excited and nervous. But seeing a specialist for my feet. Seeing a specialist at all.

I suppose I am hardcore about running. But it's a good feeling. And I'm trying to be optimistic about this trip to the doctor. Hopefully I'll get good info and I'll feel even more confident about my running in the future.

Whodini

I got out to the Y today and had a pretty good workout. Especially considering that after the first mile the treadmill I was stopped and flashed the word "error."

Anyhow, good hard running up steep inclines.

I feel like my post-marathon layoff has me feeling a bit out-of-shape but I'm also bring a stronger intensity to my workouts so it all balances out.

In other news, regular readers of the blog now how every so often a song, or a snippet of a song, gets stuck in my head. Today it's an old song by the classic rap group Whodini: When you were young, you wanted to be president. Sometimes I wonder where those dreams went.

In other words, I'm a little frustrated at work and seeking direction. We'll see how it all goes. I've got an appointment with the foot doctor in 9 days and hopefully he'll have some good advice, the weather will get a tad warmer and I'll start running even harder.

Running has definitely helped me handle stress better. Yet, I'm nowhere near becoming president.

Life to my days

I'm sitting here remembering one of my favorite running quotes: I don't run to add days to my life; I run to add life to my days.

It reminds me why I run. It's fun and it gives me energy.

And I'm wondering just how much I should run when I have this appointment with the foot doctor coming up and my ankle and the top of my foot feel funny.

Well, tonight I think I'm going to sleep early. Tomorrow, we'll play it by ear.

Thinking about the foot doctor

My doctor appointment on Monday seems like a long time ago. After all, it was last month. And the referral to a foot doctor seemed like a long way into the future too.

However, it was actually two weeks into the future. And is not less than two weeks into the future. Wonder of wonders.

This is exciting because when I woke up today my foot hurt. Foot, ankle... And as I walked downstairs to the computer, the pain continued.

It's funny. I remember how there have been times in the past few months when seemingly exciting things happened. Like for example, getting a call from someone about a job opening. That really lifted my spirits and the pain seemed to go away. But the job didn't materialize and the pain stuck around. It's strange how emotions can affect the way our bodies feel.

Anywho, I may runover the next 10 days between now and my appointment with the foot doctor, but it will be real light running, I suppose. I don't have anything specific to train for. Mainly I just need to get ready for my doctor appointment and hopefully be optimistic about it.