Tag: 10 things

july 26/RUNSWIM

3.3 miles
trestle turn around
71 degrees
humidity: 94% / dew point: 67

Hot and steamy today. Went out for my run right after the rain ended. Everything wet, dripping, swampy. Headed north through the tunnel of trees. Noticed a tall, precarious stack of small stones on the ancient boulder. Was passed by a shirtless runner with a bright yellow baseball cap on backwards. For the next five minutes of my run, I watched as his bright yellow head slowly bobbed out of sight. Encountered another biking camp group — 20 or 30 kids in yellow vest on the bike path. Not sure how they were doing it, but they managed to get several cars to honk for them. Turned around at the stairs just past the railroad trestle.

For most of the run it was overcast, but at the very end, as I ran back through the neighborhood, some sun emerged and my shadow joined me. Hello friend!

Listened to 1 biker talking to another — most of it was just out of range, but I heard, I always slow way down there and look carefully, otherwise I keep going, the biking kids, and cars. After turning around, put in headphones. Started with Billie Eilish’s latest song for the Barbie movie, “What Was I Made For,” then was inspired to put on The Wiz and the Tinman’s song, “What Would I Do If I Could Feel?”

I started thinking about my desire to use my runs to help open me up to the world — to feel things deeply and generously. And now, as I write this, I’m thinking about Emily Dickinson’s poem about grief and the formal feeling that comes after it, “After great pain, a formal feeling comes,” which I first posted about on this blog in march of 2021.

10 Wet Things

  1. sidewalk puddles
  2. half my street for a short stretch
  3. the leaves on the sprawling oak tree near the ancient boulder
  4. the edges of the trail
  5. one branch leaning over the trail, brushing my face
  6. my face — from sweaty effort, running through rain-soaked branches, under dripping bridges
  7. the air — hazy, steamy, fog hovering just above the trail
  8. the tip of my pony tail
  9. wheels — bike, car, stroller
  10. mud on the dirt trail, mostly where the ruts are the deepest

This was the daily poem on poems.com. A great winter poem to revisit in January. I love Major Jackson’s poetry.

lxxxi. / Major Jackson

Pine shadows on snow like a Jasper canvas,
if only my pen equaled the downy’s stabbing beak
this January morning, her frantic
chipping, more resolve than frenzy, to make a feast
of beetle larvae, if only my wood-boring eyes
could interrogate the known like pillars of sunlight
through fast-moving clouds scanning the side
of Corporation Mountain where on a distant ridge
white plumes dissolve like theories. I cannot hear
through winter’s quiet what’s worth saying.
Saplings stand nude as Spartans awaiting orders.
The entire forest is iced-up and glistening.
Sealed in its form, the austere world I’ve come
to love beckons, earth runnels soon resurrected
into a delirium of streams and wild fields. Till then,
branches like black lines crisscrossing the sub-Arctic.

swim: 3 loops (6 cedar loops)
cedar lake open swim
92 degrees

A warm night with very little breeze. Not good for cooling Scott off on the shore, but good for me and swimming in calm water. For the first few loops it felt a little harder to breathe — was it the heat? Felt a little sore during this swim — just under my right shoulder.

The coolest thing about my swim: just heading out from shore, swimming over some vegetation, dozens of small fish (much bigger than minnows) swam right below me, almost as if I was acting out Anne Sexton’s poem, The Nude Swim, real — All of the fish in us had escaped for a minute. Were these all of my fish, escaping into the water? Or, were these Sexton’s real fish that don’t mind my fish having escaped? Either way, a super cool image! As I think about it some more, I like imaging these fish as escaping from me — swim free little Sara fish!

added the next morning: Just remembered something else about the swim. Mostly the water was warm, which felt nice when I first entered the water, but as I rounded the far buoy, the one at Hidden Beach, I swam through a few pockets of very cold water, which felt nice after swimming in such hot air.

july 25/SWIM

3 loops
lake nokomis open swim
90 degrees

Today, before open swim, I memorized parts of 2 more water poems that I’d like to think about and maybe attempt to recite as I swim: part II of Alice Oswald’s Evaporations and several stanzas from Anne Sexton’s The Nude Swim:

II / Alice Oswald

In their lunch hour
I saw shop-workers get into water
They put their watches on stones and slithered frightened
Into the tight fitting river
And shook out cuffs of splash
And swam wide strokes towards the trees
And in a while swam back
With rigid cormorant smiles
Shocked I suppose from taking on
Something impossible to think through
Something old and obsessive like the centre of a rose
And for that reason they turned quickly
And struggled to get out again and retrieved their watches
Stooped on the grass-line hurrying now
They began to laugh and from their meaty backs
A million crackling things
Burst into flight which was either water
Or the hour itself ascending.

The Nude Swim/ Anne Sexton

On the southwest side of Capri
we found a little unknown grotto
where no people were and we
entered it completely
and let our bodies loose all
their loneliness.

All of the fish in us
had escaped for a minute.
The real fish did not mind.
We did not disturb their personal life.
We calmly trailed over them and
under them, shedding
air bubbles, little white
balloons that drifted up
into the sun by the boat
where the Italian boatman slept
with his hat over his face.

Water so clear you could
read a book through it.
Water so buoyant you could
float on your elbow.

Very windy at the lake and choppy in the water. Lots of breathing only on one side. After one rough loop I thought I would only do 2, but I stopped after the second for 20-30 seconds and decided I could do one more loop. Glad I did. The final loop seemed easier, not sure why — maybe it was because it was a little less windy, maybe it was because I practiced reciting the Oswald and Sexton poems, or maybe it was because all my swimming this year is paying off and I’m getting stronger. Very glad I went back out for that third loop!

I found the Sexton a little easier to remember and recite in my head as I swam than the Oswald, but it was fun to recite both. Favorite lines: “and let our bodies lose all their loneliness” and “from their meaty backs a millions crackling things burst into flight which was either water or the hour itself ascending”

10 Things

  1. warmer water — but not too warm
  2. fluffy, shredded clouds in the sky
  3. crowded beach and swimming area
  4. breathing mostly on the right side
  5. traffic jams at the far orange and green buoys
  6. a canoe and some paddleboarders on the course
  7. light brown/tan water with a few streaks below
  8. more pink safety buoys than orange or yellow
  9. vegetation wrapped around my shoulder
  10. more vegetation poking up from below


july 24/RUN

3.1 miles
2 trails
73 degrees

And the week of heat begins. A few days ago, the high was expected to be 103 on Wednesday. Now just 98. Still too warm. I could feel the heat in my run this morning. Harder to breathe. Even so, running feels better. My knees and hips don’t hurt. Hooray!

Listened to kids and cars and birds for most of the run. Turned on “The Wiz” for the last mile.

10 Things

  1. the energetic din of kids getting dropped off for camp at Dowling Elementary
  2. “Uptown Funk” playing on the playground at Minnehaha Academy — I could hear “too hot” through the trees as I ran past. I wondered if it was the edited version or if some kid might go home tonight singing “hot damn”
  3. passing a woman walk-running with her dog on the short hill down to the south entrance of the winchell trail
  4. as I write this entry on my deck, I can hear one of the kids next door whining or whimpering non-stop inside of their house. I am almost positive it’s a kid, but could it be a dog? wow
  5. the water was a burning white
  6. haze hovers above the water’s surface — it looks so hot!
  7. calling out excuse me and thank you! as I passed 3 walkers spread across the path
  8. flying fast down the hill into the tunnel of trees, everything a blur
  9. up on edmund, farther from the river, hearing the faint voices of rowers
  10. no roller skiers or overheard conversations or regulars

july 22/RUN

3.8 miles
marshall loop
70 degrees

Ran with Scott up to Cleveland, over to Summit, beside St. Thomas, down to the river. Stopped and hiked around the Monument before starting to run again. A nice, relaxed run — we talked about the difficulties of taking care of aging parents, terrible comments online, being able to still smell bland smells but not intense ones, swift carrots in Zelda, and whether or not a person who is completely blind (seeing no light) could run if they were tethered to a guide (pacer).

10 Things

  1. dodging sprinklers
  2. the sound of falling water
  3. wooden ramps covering temporary water pipes on the sidewalk making a dull thud when I ran over them
  4. rowers on the river — 2 8 person shells lined up like they might race
  5. a new favorite view of the river from the east side — under the monument on some jutting rocks, a wide view of the lake street bridge, the blue river, longfellow flats on the west side
  6. roots as makeshift steps
  7. mud on some limestone, small gravel and dry dirt on other limestone
  8. the shshshshuffle of a runner’s striking feet from behind
  9. a woman talking on a phone outside — I support all sorts of things in Minneapolis and I’m a SENIOR!
  10. small decals on the lower corner of an out-of-business restaurant: wine glasses and plates and beer mugs? — I can’t quite remember

While I drank my coffee this morning, I memorized a delightful water poem by Tony Hoagland — The Social Life of Water.

july 20/SWIM

3 loops
lake nokomis open swim
78 degrees

Another great swim! Sunny, warm, not too windy. I couldn’t see the buoys at all, but I stayed mostly on course and the one time I was off, I didn’t care. Swimming from the little beach to the big beach I suddenly noticed the buoy was way off to my left, so I stopped and turned sharply and headed towards it. I’m pleased with myself for being so unworried about messing up. I’ve been working on it for a few years now.

I started strong, but was ready to be done midway through the 3 loop. Near the end, my body felt awkward, especially my shoulders and feet.

I didn’t have time to write this right after my swim so I’m doing it the morning after. Can I remember 10 things?

10 Things

  1. a dark plane passing through a white cloud above me
  2. several sailboats with white sails have joined the orange-sailed boat to my right
  3. the sun on the water’s surface: shimmering, sizzling
  4. sighting the buoys: almost always, nothing but empty water, trees, sky
  5. sloshing water passing by my ears
  6. grazing the side of the orange buoy as I rounded it, watching it twist slightly
  7. crossing over vegetation just below me near the big beach
  8. more orange safety buoys tethered to torsos than yellow ones
  9. before the swim: enchanted by the gentle undulations of the water
  10. after the swim: standing below the lifeguard stand drying off and listening to a female off-duty lifeguard flirting (?) with a male lifeguard up in the stand — it sucks that I won’t be here for the party…are you going back to Ireland?

july 19/RUNSWIM

run: 3.4 miles
2 trails
74 degrees / dew point: 62

Running is feeling a little better, at least on my knee and hip. Mentally it’s difficult to get back into the effort that continuous running takes. For the first mile or so, I chanted triple berries in my head — strawberry / raspberry / blueberry. It helped. Everything is wet this morning — a quick thunderstorm in the middle of the night. Puddles, dripping trees, mud. Slippery.

Waved at Mr. Walker Sitter — not sitting but walking today, good morninged Mr. Morning!, passed a bunch of kids on bikes in yellow vests with an adult, thanked a man for moving his dog over to the side so I could run by. A few minutes later, saw something on the winchell trail ahead of me — a puddle? a tree branch? No, a blue tent wrapped up and around a supine body — two bare legs sticking out wearing hiking boots. Not moving. Were they asleep? passed out? dead? Why were they on the paved trail? Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? Not sure what to do, I kept running, knowing that the kind man with the dog would be encountering this same sight in just a few minutes. For the rest of the run, I wondered if I did the right thing. I asked RJP and she thought it was good I didn’t stop, especially since someone else (a man with a dog) was close behind me and could stop.

As I write this entry (at 10:45 in the morning), some (but not all) meteorologists are forecasting possible severe thunderstorms (a tornado) for late afternoon. Will they cancel open swim? Will a tornado touch down?

hours later: No! Open swim was not cancelled, although it looked ominous (or om, as I like to say) when we got there. I managed to swim 25 minutes before it thundered. Excellent!

swim: 1.5 big loops
cedar lake open swim
dark skies, threat of a storm

One half of the sky was a deep blue/purple, the other started mostly clear and light blue but quickly was covered in clouds as I started my swim. The water was choppy and dark and cold — why so cold? It’s almost 90 degrees! A good swim. As usual, I felt strong and fast and happy plowing through the waves. Because it’s cedar, people were swimming in whatever direction they wanted — no worries, I’ve embraced the cedar chill. Decided to do 3 quick loops then check on the weather. As I neared the shore, I noticed all the lifeguards and kayaks out of the water. At first I didn’t know why, then I heard one of them say, we need to stay out of the water for 30 minutes. Oh — it must have thundered. And, as if on cue, it thundered again. Very happy to have been able to swim at all tonight!

july 18/SWIM

3 loops
lake nokomis open swim
85 degrees

Warmer today. Yes! I forgot to mention yesterday how cold I was when I left the water at cedar. My jaw ached, my legs were shaking a little. For the last loop my fingers were almost numb. It wasn’t that cold — in the 70s (air), 75 (water) — but it felt cold to me. Tonight much better. The difference was the air temperature and the amount of sun, I think. A nice swim.

I can tell that it’s harder for me to see the orange buoys. I barely ever see them now. Really just the idea of orange — I look in the direction I think the buoy should be and orange appears in my head. Maybe this sounds strange, but I think what’s happening is that my brain is getting some visual data that’s too faint for me to recognize consciously — my brain, everyone’s brain, does that. I’m pretty confident I’m going the right way so I keep swimming. So far, the buoy always shows up (approximately/roughly/almost) where I thought it was.

10 Things

  1. silver flashes below me — fish?!
  2. a lifeguard’s voice through a bullhorn announcing the safety break (at 6:15) — I heard it as I swam parallel to the main beach in the long stretch between the second green buoy and the first orange one
  3. racing swan boats! — 3 or 4 of them off to my left as I swam toward the little beach
  4. a single sailboat with an orange sail
  5. a paddle boarder in the swimming area
  6. a vine wrapped around my shoulders, prickly and long — I didn’t want to stop swimming so I quickly ripped it off with my stroking hand
  7. crossing above the rope that is attached to the buoy on one end, an anchor on the other
  8. looking under the water and seeing the pale legs of a swimmer in front of me
  9. barely grazing the foot of another swimmer near the far orange buoy — did it irritate or surprise him? Did he think it was a fish or a swimmer or something else? Did he even notice?
  10. the diagonal line of swimmers taking the shortest and most direct path from buoy to buoy — seeing them on my left side every time I breathed, I could see elbows, forearms, the white of their spray, the green of their caps, the yellow of their safety buoys

Found this poem the other day:

Trust/ Thomas R. Smith

It’s like so many other things in life
to which you must say no or yes.
So you take your car to the new mechanic.
Sometimes the best thing to do is trust.

The package left with the disreputable-looking
clerk, the check gulped by the night deposit,
the envelope passed by dozens of strangers—
all show up at their intended destinations.

The theft that could have happened doesn’t.
Wind finally gets where it was going
through the snowy trees, and the river, even
when frozen, arrives at the right place.

And sometimes you sense how faithfully your life
is delivered, even though you can’t read the address.

I like trusting the world — not that I always do, but I’m trying to.

july 17/RUNSWIM

run: 3.05 miles
2 trails
60 degrees

Another cooler morning. Sun, low wind, good air. I’ve cut back on running this month because my left hip is tight and my left kneecap has been shifting in the groove a little too much. Plus, I’m swimming more. Oh, and I had to take several days off because of COVID. And then, of course, we (much more Scott than me) moved Scott’s dad out of his apartment and into assisted living. A strange month.

Listened to the cars, blue jays, a few rowers, and an adult instructing some kids on bikes — you’re biking uphill now, so you should shift gears for most of the run. For the last mile, I put in my headphones and listened to Camelot.

10 Things I Ran On/Over/Around

  1. soft, dry dirt
  2. grass
  3. concrete
  4. dead leaves, still intact
  5. dead leaves, half mulched
  6. dead leaves, mostly mucky dirt
  7. asphalt, only a few cracks
  8. asphalt, rubbled
  9. limestone steps
  10. tree roots

10 Living Things Encountered

  1. a runner with her dog on the winchell trail
  2. a walker from behind — excuse me excuse me right behind you!
  3. the voice of a rower drifting up from the river
  4. the voice of 2 women walkers drifting down from the road
  5. the fee bee of a black capped chickadee
  6. a group of bikers — an adult + several kids
  7. an older male runner
  8. a young female runner
  9. someone emerging from the porta potty, rubbing in hand sanitizer as they crossed the trail
  10. a screeching, moaning, whining voice coming from an alley — a raccoon? a dog? nope, a kid in a stroller

swim: 3 loops (6 small loops)
cedar lake open swim
79 degrees

A great swim! Not too windy or wavy or crowded. I barely saw the buoys but it doesn’t matter at cedar. People swim everywhere here. I thought I saw my shadow below me in the water. Is that possible? No fish, but a few birds. Every so often the sun reflected off the water and everything glowed. Today’s reason it’s wonderful to swim in the lake: I don’t need to SEE (as in, fine detail, fast focus, clear images) to navigate. And, my way of seeing — forms, relying on big landmarks, not panicking when things don’t quite make sense — helps me to see as good, or probably better, than most normally sighted people.

july 16/SWIM

4 loops
lake nokomis open swim
68 degrees
foggy and drizzly

Hooray for 4 loops! A few sprinkles before I started, then some rain while I swam. Difficult to tell that it was raining; I couldn’t see it dropping through the opaque water, but I did hear hit the surface. Felt strong and happy, not too sore. Every so often my knees would lock up, but my new trick of doing 2 or 3 frog kicks was all I needed to unlock them. The water was full of swells and rocked me back and forth. The last lap was the worst. With the small waves coming from behind, it was hard to get power with my stroke. I knew I was moving, but I felt like Shaggy running in place.

Swam 3 loops then got out of the water to make the long trek to the bathroom. Annoying, but even if I wanted to (which I don’t) I can’t get myself to pee in the lake. Nothing comes out. Got back in the water and felt strange — warmed up, floating through emptiness, hardly feeling anything

10 Things

  1. before starting: cold air and cold water
  2. a woman in a pink suit, bracing herself before running in the water, first yelling, I can’t do this! then letting out a battlecry as she dove in
  3. hazy, foggy, fuzzy view — I thought my goggles were fogged up, but it was just the moisture in the air
  4. the sound of someone letting the air out of their buoy after they finished
  5. feeling buoyant, on top of the water, fast
  6. a bright light off in the distance — a car’s headlights in the parking lot
  7. bright green arms — does someone have a green wetsuit?
  8. the first orange buoy at the other end of the lake far from me as I rounded the second green buoy
  9. an empty lake in front of me then suddenly a yellow buoy appeared (with plenty of time for me to avoid the buoy and the swimmer dragging it)
  10. waves rushing over me, into my side, from behind — sometimes I could see a light spray out of the corner of my eyes caused by my body crashing into the wave

An important thing to remember

This summer some bird that I don’t ever remember hearing before has been screeching regularly. A very irritating sound that cuts through everything else, especially when it happens over and over. Scott figured out what it is: a kestrel! Beautiful, graceful birds when they’re flying, but not when they’re calling out their warnings!

july 15/RUN

2.5 miles
mini marshall loop
70 degrees

Ran with Scott up the marshall hill to cleveland, then over to St. Thomas and back down to Cretin. We were planning to get some coffee at Black, but it looked very crowded. Instead we walked down the hill to Loons and got it there instead. We ran most of it, except for the stretch of hill from the bottom to cretin. We walked that section.

10 Things

  1. bad air quality from the canadian wildfires, 1: a strange orangish pinkish light
  2. bad air quality, 2: hazy over the river — the river was sparkling in the sun, but dulled, not sharp
  3. bad air quality, 3: a haze over the St. Thomas campus, like a strange fog, not thick but fuzzy
  4. interesting patterns on the water’s surface — little grids of waves from the wind
  5. crossing over to st. paul, the river was empty of rowers
  6. crossing back over to minneapolis, Scott mentioned there were rowers. At first, I didn’t see them, but a few minutes later, I noticed a bump in the water in my periphery. Rowers! Suddenly I saw them: 2 small shells with 2 people each off in the hazy distance — this is the strange way my vision works
  7. no bells at St. Thomas
  8. a woman, possibly drunk, singing dude looks like a lady and then yelling out (to us?), I paid for my kids to go to this school! I wanted to speculate on what she meant, Scott did not
  9. an irritating crosswalk that kept barking (in a low voice) wait wait wait but then, when the light changed, didn’t reciprocate go go go, but emitted a rapid series of sounds, making me imagine a round of bullets being fired but not think, Oh, I can walk now
  10. a grand house on cleveland being gutted but not torn down and replaced with an ugly, over-sized new house (nice!, we both agreed)

a life update for future Sara to remember

On Thursday and Friday, Scott and I were in Rochester cleaning out and giving away the last bit of stuff from his parent’s apartment: lamps, chairs, a desk, cleaning supplies, a couch. The end of an era, his mom dead, his dad now in assisted living in the twin cities. Strange to say good-bye to all of this and to be reminded of how little much of your stuff matters to others once you die.