bike: 7.5 miles lake nokomis and back 70 degrees 9:00 am
FWA has figured out the shortest way to get to the lake, and when we bike over there to train for his swim across the lake, we always take it. We also bike much slower than I do by myself. It’s nice to bike slower. It’s safer, I notice more, and I’m less tired when we get to the lake. My most distinctive memory of this bike ride was seeing the flash of intense blue from a bird as it flew away. Was it just a blue jay, or something more interesting, like an indigo bunting? I checked with FWA, and he agreed it was blue.
swim: 1.5 small loops (500 yards?) lake nokomis big beach| 73 degrees 9:30 am
A beautiful morning for a swim, even if we didn’t swim that much. I need to start pushing FWA to swim a little bit more. The thing I remember most about the swim was seeing 2 swam pedal boats off in the distance. One of them was facing us, looking menacing.
run: 3.5 miles lake nokomis — one way 82 degrees 4:30 pm
So hot! I had the crazy idea of doing a one way run to the lake, then meeting Scott for a beer. I had to stop a few times to walk. Even though it was hot, I made it. It was very crowded at the beach — so many people! Lots of fun people watching. Lots of swans, kayaks, paddle boards, canoes, inner tubes out on the water.
Colors I noticed at the lake
a woman’s bright blue suit with a ruffled collar
blindingly bright white swan boat + a woman’s pale legs
another women’s black adn white 2 piece suit (top: black, bottom: white)
bike: 8.5 miles lake nokomis and back 75 degrees 9:00 am (there) / 10:45 (back)
More people on the trail this morning. Less chance to notice anything other than how close I was to other people. Even so, I’ll try to remember 5 things on the way to the lake, and 5 things on the way back.
10 Things I Noticed While Biking
on the way to the lake
a park worker in a bright yellow and orange vest, weeding, on a part of the path that was blocked off with orange cones
several walkers on the biking side of the trail
pounding from the construction site across from the DQ that I momentarily thought was my bike pedal doing something weird
wind rushing past my ears
a close encounter with several ducks — under a bridge, as I hugged the far edge of the trail to avoid an approaching pedestrian and biker: ducks, right there!
on the way back from the lake
getting stuck behind 2 slow moving bikes — difficult to pass, difficult to bike slowly enough to not run into them (6 mph?)
behind another slow-moving biker — as they went up or down a hill, they shifted gears with slow, awkward clicks
another biker behind us, too impatient not too pass: “on your left”
the lines on the bike path have been touched up, but the big bump on the trail hasn’t been fixed
road closed sign for july 13th. No, not again!!
swim: 3 loops lake nokomis open swim 75 degrees 9:45 am
Every time I come to an open swim, I am deeply grateful that this program exists. To be able to swim across the lake for 2 hours, 6 times a week? Sometimes I can’t believe that something this wonderful is actually allowed to continue without being “improved” in ways that make it worse.
It looked like it might rain and it was a little windy, but the water was fine. Warm, not too choppy. Mostly, I breathed every 5 strokes. Sometimes, 3 or 4 or 6. Once, when a wave hit me as I surfaced, after 2 strokes. Saw some more planes, but no dragonflies or birds. Where are the seagulls? I’m trying to remember the last time I noticed a seagull on the water.
I just remembered: just before I started the swim, I could hear the creeaakk of the swing at the top of the beach. I think they’ve needed to oil that swing for 10 years now.
Leila Chatti has the most amazing abecedarian poem in The Nation. Here’s a portion of it:
3.25 miles 2 trails, the mostly dirt version* 76 degrees humidity: 81% / dew point: 70 9:15 am
*I ran south on the dirt trail between Edmund and the river road. Crossed over at 42nd to the river road trail, then down to the Winchell Trail. Through the oak savanna, up the gravel by the ravine, down through the tunnel of trees, over to the dirt trail at 33rd and Edmund.
A dew point of 70? That’s pretty miserable. It didn’t bother me today. I was thinking about attention and listening to all of the sounds: birds, trucks, lawn mowers, cicadas, cars, roller skiers, singing bikers.
one thing I remembered, one I forgot
remembered: As I ran by the ancient boulder, I remembered to check if there were any stacked stones. Yes! 4 tiny stacked stones, hidden in the curve of the boulder. I saw these stones yesterday too, but forgot to write about them. Seeing these small stones, I wonder how many times I’ve glanced at the boulder and thought there were no stacked stones on it, when there were these tiny ones, hidden.
forgot: I forgot to look at the river even once. I even ran closer to it, down on the Winchell Trail, then forgot to turn right and look. Was it blue? brown?
Near the end of my run, I stopped for a few minutes to record my thoughts:
thought after run / july 7
letting attention flow through you, not holding onto it, letting it go things remembered: the steady soundtrack of my striking feet and my labored lungs because of the humidity people talking loudly in the background trading off of lines between birds and cicadas, no constant soundtrack, in and out cars zooming by, a loud truck, bikers singing what were the bikers singing? ridiculously delightful overheard: a biker listening to talk radio more cars whooshing by all the things I’m curious about: surfaces and how they’re made — who made them and through what process birds chirping, the steady striking of my feet on the dirt
As I listen back to the recording, I’m struck by all the background sounds, some of which I notice and remark on, others which I don’t. It’s funny how much of our surroundings we tune out — like the cars or the birds or the people.
Here’s a poem I found on twitter this morning. Love Carl Phillips!
Sure, there’s a spell the leaves can make, shuddering, and in their lying suddenly still again — flat, and still, like time itself when it seems unexpectedly more available, more to lose therefore, more to love, or try to…
But to look up from the leaves, remember,
is a choice also, as if up from the shame of it all, the promiscuity, the seeing-how-nothing-now-will- save-you, up to the wind-stripped branches shadow- signing the ground before you the way, lately, all the branches seem to, or you like to say they do, which is at least half of the way, isn’t it, toward belief — whatever, in the end, belief is… You can look up, or you can close the eyes entirely, making some of the world, for a moment, go away, but only some of it, not the part about hurting others as the one good answer to being hurt, and not the part that can at first seem, understandably, a life in ruins, even if — refusing ruin, because you can refuse — you look again, down the steep corridor of what’s just another late winter afternoon, dark as night already, dark the leaves and, darker still, the door that, each night, you keep meaning to find again, having lost it, you had only to touch it, just once, and it bloomed wide open…
swim: 3 loops lake nokomis open swim 80 degrees 5:30 pm
A great night for a swim! Calm water, overcast, not too crowded. I swam without stopping for 45 minutes, and I swam straight to each buoy, even though I hardly saw them. As usual, just the smallest flash that something was there. Sometimes I could tell it was orange or green, but usually it was just the idea of a hulking shape way ahead of me, or the smallest smudge of something. So strange.
10 Things I Noticed
no fish below me
the orange buoys were in a straight line, the one closest to the little beach wasn’t that close
most of the buoys tethered to torsos were yellow
a flash of green, then a swimmer directly ahead of me, way off course — I had to swing wide to avoid them
another swimmer, pushing me off to the side. I had to stop and swim behind, then around them (this happened at least twice)
the far green buoy was in line with at least two white sailboats, which made it hard to sight
a plane overhead, no blue sky, only clouds
breathed every 5 strokes: 1 2 3 4 5 breathe right 1 2 3 4 5 breathe left
encountered a family of ducks out in the middle of the lake
the water was slightly clearer than on Tuesday, but not as clear as at Cedar Lake. I could watch my hand stretch out in front of me, but only saw dark green below
5 miles bottom of franklin hill 69 degrees humidity: 79% / dew point: 64 8:30 am
Even though the dew point was high, it was a good run. I tried my new experiment for the franklin hill route (which I first tried on june 22): run 2.5 miles to the bottom of the hill, turn around and walk back up it while paying attention.
recording:
thoughts while walking up the franklin hill
transcript:
july 6, 2022. 8:54 am. Just ran about 2 and a half miles to the bottom of the franklin hill, and now I’m walking up it, and it’s so LOUD. Everything is loud: the rumbling of the rushing cars and trucks above me on the bridge, the cars whooshing by, the bikes, the air is buzzing. It was doing this last night too when I was at the lake swimming. So much energy in the air, made it seem more intense.
The noise of the traffic is almost drowning out all the birdsong. Occasionally it pierces through the heavy curtain of sound.
When I was running earlier, I started chanting in triple berries as a way to get in the mindset [of being open to noticing]. I did strawberry/blueberry/raspberry, then wondering/wondering/wandering, wondering/wandering/mystery, and then, wonder where/wonder why/wonder when/wonder what. I wonder how that would work if I kept chanting it as a way to get into this trance? If I did, wonder what/wonder what/wonder what until I found something that I wondered about.
Heading under the Franklin bridge, I hear some roller skiers behind me. I love the sound of the click [of their poles]. *the sound of roller skiers’ poles hitting the pavement.* click? maybe a click clack? click? yeah. click click.I can’t quite tell. *me, humming*
note: I find it fascinating to listen back to my transcripts — how I don’t finish my thoughts; speak using run-on sentences with and…and…and; and hum without realizing it!
One more thing: As I was running, I remembered something I’d like to add for my class today in terms of wonder as curiosity: I’m calling it, “fill in the blank.” With this activity, you listen for fragments of conversation and try to imagine what the next word would be. I often hear unfinished bits of conversation as I run near others and I wonder what they were talking about or how they finished the sentence that I only heard the first half of. It’s fun, entertaining, a good way to use your imagination, and might lead to a story or a poem.
Here are 2 things I want to archive from twitter: a poem by Wendell Berry and a quote from Mary Ruefle, and one thing I heard from Scott about creativity and dyslexia:
1
To Know the Dark/ Wendell Berry
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light. To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight, and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings, and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.
2
John Ashbery, in an interview… : “I waste a lot of time. That’s part of the [creative process] ….The problem is, you can’t really use this wasted time. You have to have it wasted. Poetry disequips you for the requirements of life. You can’t use your time.” — Mary Ruefle in Madness, Rack, and Honey
note: I’m a little confused by this notation but I assume it means that Mary Ruefle is quoting John Ashbery in her quote?
3
An article to check out about how people with dyslexia might think more creatively: Dyslexia Helped Evolutionary Survival of Humans, Research suggest. As with most poplular reporting on scientific research, I want to find the original study that inspired this pop article for Newsweek. A few lines caught my eye, including:
Schools, academic institutes and workplaces are not designed to make the most of explorative learning.
But we urgently need to start nurturing this way of thinking to allow humanity to continue to adapt and solve key challenges.
Yes, we need to radically rethink what skills are taught/learned if we’re going to survive the 21st century!
swim: 1 small loop cedar lake open swim 80 degrees 6:00 pm
Swam across the lake with my 19 year old son! We’ve been practicing and building up his endurance for the last couple of weeks. Today he didn’t seem to have any problem swimming across and back. Hooray! It was fun to swim with him.
addendum: returning to this post a day later — Besides swimming with FWA, one of the best things about swimming at Cedar Lake last night was how clear the water was. It wasn’t absolutely clear, where you could see all the way to bottom 50 feet below, but it was clear enough that I could my legs and hands under the water (they were glowing white) and FWA as he did the breast-stroke. Then, as we left the beach, we both noticed the vegetation below us, growing up from some bottom that stretched endlessly and invisibly beneath us.
note: I’m writing this the next day because I didn’t have time to write it right after my swim. The thing I remember most about this swim was how the energy at the lake was intense: tons of people — a company picnic, lots of people swimming, swan pedalboats in the water, paddleboarders; the air was electric — it looked like it could start storming at any time — it didn’t feel omninous, but just like something might happen; the water was choppy, but not difficult to swim through. I saw flashes of silver below me, and flashes above in the sky. It wasn’t lightening, but a bird or a plane or a trick of the light.
4.1 miles minnehaha falls and back 72 degrees humidity: 97% / dew point: 70! 11:00 am
Scott and I were supposed to run the Red, White, and Boom 4 mile race this morning, but they cancelled it because of bad weather (thunderstorms). After the storm, which wasn’t really that bad, at least here in south Minneapolis, I decided to go out and run my 4 miles. It was hot and sticky and the dew point was terrible, but I had a good run. I was inspired by Jorie Graham’s line from her poem, “All”:
After the rain stops you can hear the rained-on.
When I was running, I couldn’t quite think of the line; I didn’t remember it being specific to hearing, so I tried to notice all evidence — visual, aural, etc — of the rained-on.
10 Things: Evidence of the Rained-on
sound: a constant drip drip drip
branches of trees and flowers bent down, heavy with rain
running too close to the vines on the side of the trail, getting my shorts wet
running under some dripping trees, 1: feeling like it’s raining again
running under some dripping trees, 2: hearing a loud ping ping ping
my feet striking the grit makes a deeper, heavier sound than when the grit/dirt is dry
the slick whoosh of wet tires
the roar of the falls, the rush in the ravine
puddles on the path, and on the edge between the sidewalk and the road
sometimes the grass was beaded with drips, othertimes it squished under my feet
Around the 5k point, I stopped to record some thoughts into my phone. Here’s a transcript:
I had a thought about next week’s lecture, which is on wonder and delight. I was thinking about this idea of wonder as knowing and 2 important moments of it, as least for me.
`There’s the wonder and curiosity, where you wonder about something because you don’t know about it, and there’s this kind of magical time before you find out what it is — there’s room for all these possibilities. Of course, what you find out that it is, isn’t necessarily what it actually is, but what we’ve determined it is. This is the moment of possibility. It’s important to not shut this down, to leave room for speculating and imagining possibilities.
When you wonder about something and then go in search of answers for your questions, and instead of delivering certainty to you, it just raises more questions, and enables you to see that what you thought was magical and amazing is even moreso. In fact, learning things, becoming more familiar with them, doesn’t have to make them boring and settled. It can open up more questions and doors into wondering about them.
A beautiful morning for a swim! Calm water that felt faster, more buoyant. Was the temp of it colder today? Not sure, but it felt easier to be higher and easier to breathe. Swam 3 loops — 54 minutes — without stopping once, not even to tread water at a buoy. Other than in a race, that might be the longest I have swum stroke after stroke without stopping. Breathed every 5 strokes. Throughout the swim, I tracked the clouds above me. At first: when I breathed to my left there were clouds, to the right, clear. Later: no clouds at all. Finally: clouds to the left, clear to the right. Not heavy clouds, just streaks of fluff covering part of the sky.
10 Things I Noticed While Swimming (other than the clouds)
difficult to see the buoys, especially the far orange one
usually I hardly ever see the color, but today I managed to see orange a few times
more bits of algae in the water, not long strands, but medium-sized chunks, and very small bits
on the way back to the big beach, on the back half of the loop, I always felt a little tired. By the time I reached the big beach, I was energized again
no planes
one bird, bombing through the air — so fast!
no menancing sailboats or what swan paddleboats* or kayaks
heard a few voices once, wondered what was happening
lots of gentle sloshing of water over or beside my ear
back, a little sore; fingers too, and a little numb; no problems with knees or feet or calves or neck!
*a few days ago, I wrote something about the yellow paddleboats, which have been parked in the shallow water just off the north side of the beach. I just noticed yesterday (having already swum for a month!), that the boats aren’t yellow this year, but white, and they’re swans. Nice paying attention, Sara!
bike: 8.5 miles lake nokomis and back 72 degrees 9:00 am (there) / 10:45 am (back)
10 Things I Noticed While Biking
more than 1 dragonfly flying in my face
a car recklessly passing another car on the narrow river road, honking furiously
less wind today — the only wind today was the wind I made moving on my bike
2 birds having an intense exchange of chirps and cheeps — CHEEP! chirp! CHEEP!
my bike rattling as I went over the big cracks that I was unable to avoid
a pair of speedy bikers talking loudly as they passed me — what were they talking about? now I can’t remember
hearing a lifeguard’s voice through the speaker, directing other lifeguards on where to put the orange and green buoys as I neared the beach — I learned today, after overhearing the lifeguards talking to each other, that they direct some of the lifeguards by talking through the speaker and others by taking secretly through walkie talkies
so much more crowded on the way back — lots of bikes and walkers and runners using the bike path instead of the walking trail
biking back from the lake, there were kids at the Nokomis Rec Center for summer camp — my kids did those camps for 8 years. It was awesome
passed a surrey on the path on the rim of Minnehaha Falls park
swim: 2 loops lake nokomis beach 72 degrees 9:30 am
10 Things I Noticed While Swimming
half of the sky was a clear blue, half was convered in feathery clouds
the water was smooth — no chop today!
I couldn’t see the orange buoys at all until I got within 20 or 30 feet of them, but it didn’t matter because I used the silver bottom of the rowboat the guide me
a few silver flashes below me
entering the lake, the water was green at the edges — why was the water green? what does that mean? looked it up and it means there’s lots of algae near the surface
a black (at least it looked black to me) plane flying above the lake
one duck floating near the yellow paddleboats
exiting the lake, a kid calling out to an adult, “why is the water so green today?” “green?” “yeah, green right by the edge.”
very small particles, illuminated by the sun, floating in front of me, being stirred up by the motion of my hand
the far buoys — the orange one near the little beach, the green one near the big beach — were closer to shore than usual, almost right next to the white buoys. I didn’t mind; more of the lake to swim in!
Was planning to swim with FWA at the lake, but when that didn’t work out, I went for a quick run. Too warm. I listened to a playlist on the upper, paved path, and the gorge on the lower, dirt trail.
a distinctive sound
When I reached the Winchell Trail, I took my headphones out and stopped to walk for a minute. I could hear the strong buzz or hum of bugs — cicadas? isn’t it too early for them? Whatever the bugs were, I imagined hundreds (thousands?) of tiny wings flapping fast, making this not very pleasing sound. I wondered how long it would last as I kept walking. In a few minutes it faded, replaced by the whooshing of car wheels from above. Hearing this sound reminds me of the poem Babel by Kimberly Johnson:
My God, it’s loud down here, so loud the air is rattled. Who with the hissing of trees, the insect chatter, can fix devotion
on holy things, the electrical bugs so loud the air is stunned, windy the leaves’ applause redoubled by the clapping wings
of magpies? Who with their whispered psalm can outvoice their huckster cackle, the trees blustered to howls while the tesla bees
whine loudly to the shocked air? O who can think of heaven in such squall, shrill wind of trees, magpie wings, and throats in fracas,
the bluebottle static, the air stupid with the shrieks of devils,— of angels,— who in such squall can think of anything
but heaven?
The bluebottle (flies) static. I don’t think I was hearing flies, but it did sound like a sort of static.
bike: 11 miles lake nokomis and back + extra 90 degrees 5:00 pm (there) / 6:15 pm (back)
Do I remember anything about my bike, other than it was hot and very windy. So windy, and right in my face, both ways! The only other thing I remember is feeling comfortable and not nervous about whether or not I could see. Either my brain has adjusted by tweaking the visual, or it has adjusted by making me feel less anxious about not totally seeing everything. It’s probably a bit of both. Oh, one more thing: the sky looked a bit ominous — some spots of dark gray. At some point, it started raining, barely.
swim: 2 loops lake nokomis open swim 90 degrees 5:20 pm
It wasn’t too choppy in the water. Hooray! I didn’t have any problem sighting, or any problems keeping swimming when I couldn’t sight the buoys, which was most of the time. It’s getting harder to see color, I think. I rarely saw the orange or lime green until it was right in front of me. The final green buoy was lined up right in front of 3 white sailboats. I saw a few silver flashes below me — fish? Some wetsuit ran into me. I don’t think it was my fault, because I was keep my straight line, but who knows?
5k river road trail, north/south 69 degrees 9:00 am
A birthday run with Scott. Beautiful out by the gorge. Greeted Dave, the daily walker as we ran through the Welcoming Oaks. Too busy talking about something to remember to notice running through the tunnel of trees or past the old stone steps or even under the lake street bridge. Running with Scott was great, but it was hard to notice much. Can I remember 10 things I noticed? I’ll try:
10 Things I Noticed
a roller skier and their poles singing, click click click click
a man talking on a bluetooth phone with his arm extended across the path pointing — at what?
some blue jays whispering their screeches
a few narrow streaks of blue river through the thick thatch of green
faint voices of rowers talking below near the boathouse
a runner on the path, accompanied by a young girl on a bike
no memorial flowers at the trestle today
the sweet rot of the sewer near the ravine
the cracks in the asphalt just past the trestle bridge, remembering the peace sign spraypainted at this spot last summer
the satisfying crunch of the sandy gravel under my feet as I ran on the side of the trail up to the greenway
Whew! I did it. The last 3 took some time to remember.
