I’ve run on this day every year. I wonder how many times I’ve done that.
jan 27, 2017 / 9.3 miles / 28 degrees
I wrote about listening to podcasts, which I hardly ever do when I run now. When was the last time I did? Years ago?
As I ran, I listened to two podcasts. First, On Being/ Krista Tippet’s interview with Eula Biss. Biss writes about racism and white guilt/debt/privilege. I’ve read one of her books, her great article about Little House on the Prairie and her essay for the NY Times on White Debt. I like her writing and appreciate her willingness to engage with whiteness. And second, This American Life with several stories about Trump on the eve of the inauguration.
I can still picture running up the long hill into downtown as I listened to the Biss interview, and running back down it wile I listened to Trump stories.
Almost the only time that I listen to podcasts is when I’m running. Lots of This American Life. Some Radiolab. Most of How to Be Amazing. I listened to the entire first season of Serial while running on the missisissippi river road path. The stories in those podcasts are so inextricably tied with my runs that on the rare occasion that I listen to an episode again, I immediately picture exactly where I was in my run. I like that.
jan 27, 2018 / 5 miles / 33 degrees
Words to remember:
WORDS TO DESCRIBE A PATH THAT IS MOSTLY CLEAR BUT STILL SLIGHTLY COVERED WITH PUDDLES AND PATCHES OF ICE AND AN OCCASIONAL CHUNK OF SNOW:
soppy gloppy goopy slick icy thawing melting defrosting loose/loosening/looser softening messy soaked saturated soggy slushy slippery
jan 27, 2019 / 3.25 miles / 4 degrees, feels like -14 / 100% snow-covered
All about the cold and layers and onions and one of the first poems I posted on here: Monologue for an Onion/ Suji Kwock Kim
jan 27, 2020 / 4.25 miles / 26 degrees / 25% snow-covered
I posted about a poem about Saras that I was working on, inspired by Some Waynes/ WAYNE HOLLOWAY-SMITH.
jan 27, 2021 / 3.2 miles / 10 degrees, feels like 0 / 25% snow-covered
A year later, I found another poem that reminded me of the Saras — Status Update/ Rebecca Lindenbery. Funny how that works, how I think about the same idea exactly a year later. It’s happened before.
What a poem! I like the energy and her approach to describing herself. I’d like to put it beside my poem, A Bridge of Saras, which was a homage to Wayne Holloway-Smith’s Some Waynes.
I’ve never quite finished my Sara poem, but I love the idea of it, and the Saras that are in it. Maybe I should try to finish it this turn, in honor of turning 50?
jan 27, 2022 / 4.5 miles / 29 degrees / 90% snow-covered
More on layers:
when I was running, it was muted by clouds, everything white. I felt like I was suspended in white, not motionless but disconnected, separated. Very cool and dreamy. I can’t remember why, but I started thinking about layers and the poem I posted yesterday, with the repeated line, & under. What are my layers, and are layers so distinct and easily discarded? Now I’m thinking about sediment and certain types of rock formations, where rock from different times in history get all mixed up when they settle, so you can’t easily distinguish eras (or is it periods, or what?). What’s that called again? I’ll have to look it up.
This layer discussion — my different layers all mixed together — reminds me again of the Saras and imagining them altogether in the same place.
jan 27, 2023 / 4.5 miles / 24 degrees, feels like 9 / 99% snow-covered
Winter running — well, running in general — always brings me back to my body:
As I ran this morning, I thought about how I like that running outside in the winter tethers/connects me to my body. It’s impossible for me to get too lost in any dreamlike state, or any one thought or series of thoughts. The path, the wind, the cold always brings me back to my body. Sometimes, bringing me back to my body involves suffering and complaining, but more often it is about grounding me and helping me to stop overthinking things.
O, that wind!
10 Things I Noticed
- running south, the wind was in my face
- cold, but not brain-freeze cold
- strong, but not strong enough to shove me off the path
- I could hear it rushing through the dead leaves on the trees in the oak savanna — sizzling
- it stirred up an occasional dead leaf from the ground
- at one point, I felt the spray of water on my cheek — was that the wind blowing the snow? probably
- ahead of me on the trail, I could see something big-gish — was it a chunk of hard snow or ice? no, it was a branch with a few orange leaves on it. As I ran past it I was startled when the wind picked up and made it move slightly
- near the falls, I felt the wind from several directions — was it swirling, or was I winding, or both?
- no sledders enjoying the hill — is this because of the strong wind?
- the wind was not loud enough to roar, but it seemed to grumble non-stop for most of my run