5.15 miles
bottom of franklin turn around
44 degrees
More layers today. When I checked the weather on my watch before my run, the feels like temperature was 32 degrees. Didn’t feel that cold, but it didn’t feel warm either. I worked at trying to lower my heart rate as I ran when it as creeping up to 170. It’s getting easier. My goal is to be able to run to the lake (8 miles) for my 14th runniversary on 2 june.
10 Things
- the tail end of a race — Women Run the Cities, 1: one of the police cars blocking off the road was blasting “She Works Hard for the Money”
- race, 2: cowbells ringing in the distance
- race, 3: orange cones in a tight row blocking the entrance to the river road
- some sort of vehicle — a train? a truck? — crossing over the trestle. My view was blocked by green
- voices below — rowers?
- a roller skier climbing the franklin hill
- white foam on the river in the flats
- the view from the sliding bench is completely blocked by green leaves
- noticed for the first time: a dirt path leading behind a fence and down to the river near the 94 bridge
- an adult making funny noises, then a toddler giggling across the road — that deep, genuine laugh of delight that toddlers can do
Listened to spectators cheering and cowbells and my feet sliding on wet dirt as I ran north. Put in a new playlist — “Moment” — heading south. Heard U2’s “Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out of”; Olivia Newton John’s “Suspended in Time”; “Right Where You Left Me”/ Taylor Swift; “Lose Yourself”/ Eminem; “A Moment Like This”/ Kelly Clarkson. Listening to U2, I thought about ruts vs. grooves. During Eminem I sprinted in the chorus and slowed down in the verses. And with Kelly Clarkson, I thought about big moments then everyday moments, not one but an accumulation of them as a way to create magic or find meaning. This idea of accumulation reminded me of a section of a poem I read during my morning ritual of reading poems-of-the-day.
from Remote Disjunctions/ Mónica de la Torre
You’d taken yourself
to places whose specifics you’d chosen to forget. You said you
weren’t there to keep track, but to experience. Which, when
I’m feeling negative, I translate as ditching the thing as soon as
you’re done with it onto the heap of junk you’re not accumulating.