Tag: 10 things

dec 11/RUN

4.5 miles
top of franklin hill and back again
2 degrees/ feels like -5
100% snow-covered

Now this is winter running! Colder “real” temp than yesterday but felt much warmer. Sunny, hardly any wind. Greeted Dave the Daily Walker. He called out, “what a great day!” (was that it? now I can’t remember, but something like that.) He’s hard core–no coat, just several layers.

things I remember

  1. hearing a few geese
  2. focusing a lot on following the packed down part of the path
  3. noticing how less irritating my steps were when running versus walking–no grinding, quick, sharp crunches
  4. at first, noticing how the river was almost completely iced over
  5. later, just before I turned around, noticing how there was a black trail of open water in the middle
  6. feeling so quiet and peaceful–in the long gaps between cars, it was wonderfully silent.
  7. seeing 2 other people–Dave, the Daily Walker at the beginning and another walker almost at the end
  8. wondering what people driving by thought of me out here running in the cold
  9. mistaking a dead leaf fluttering on the snow for a mouse
  10. taking note of two big stones stacked on top of the big boulder by the sprawling oak–those rocks won’t blow away or tip over!
  11. slipping slightly on the path a few times

layers: less today than yesterday! one green shirt, one pink jacket, one gray jacket, two pairs of tights, two pairs of socks, a hood, a buff, a hat, gloves, mittens

Outside the Window the Whole World is Humming/ Devin Kelly

“I am happy for the smallest of moments The first desire is to bottle them The second is to believe they will last forever Isn’t it better that nothing does” Really like the title of this poem and the idea/process of writing it.

may 3/RUN

6 miles
franklin hill turnaround
54 degrees

Almost an hour long run–my goal amount of time. An hour is not too long to be worn out but long enough to really sink into a run. I’d love to run an hour almost every day. Will my body ever let me?

I don’t really remember what I thought about but I do remember:

  1. small, light purple (lilac?) flowers blooming in some bushes at the side of the path…I noticed them through my peripheral vision
  2. the smell of warming earth, slightly fragrant (not too much or too little, just right)
  3. a bald eagle perched on the branch of a tree in the flats…it stayed motionless the whole time I ran by it, almost as if it was doing it just to make sure I could positively identify it, even with my bad vision…once I had, I lost track of it either because it flew away or because it got lost in the dead zones in my central vision that my chaotic cones create
  4. 2 different runners, one near the beginning of my run the other at the end, passing me, running effortlessly, inspiring me to pick up my knees more and try to spend more time flying, less time shuffling
  5. unlayering: removing my orange sweatshirt mid run and tying it around my waist as I ran down the franklin hill
  6. a group of school kids biking south on the river road…encountered them first in the flats, later past franklin, then again under the lake street bridge…one kid called out, “greetings pedestrian!”
  7. so much green in the gorge!
  8. a biker calling out to me as I ran up the steep, long franklin hill, “you’re doing a great job on a tough hill!”
  9. a walker calling out to me as I walked at the top…not sure what he said, something about my legs?
  10. chanting raspberry/strawberry/blueberry/creme brule to steady my tempo
  11. chanting there’s a bridge/there’s a bridge/at the top/at the top/look at it/look at it/never stop/never stop to keep me running up the hill
  12. trickling, gurgling water in the flats near the limestone hill where the mudslide occurred a few years ago
  13. glancing at the beautiful blue river
  14. running with my shadow, first at my side, then leading me

Speaking of chanting, I have a new exercise I want to try. First, I want to think up a bunch of 3 syllable phrases (down the hill, walk to work, eat down town, out the door, sunday best, monday worst, turnip greens, climate change, just say please, in and out…). Then I’ll write these on small slips of paper and put them in a hat or a bowl or a bag. I’ll randomly pick out 8-10 and turn them into a poem (either in the order I select them or in an order of my choosing). Maybe the phrases should be a mixture of things from the run and popular or whimsical expressions? So much fun!

Oh, this poem! “We are engorged, gorging, and gorgeous”

Life is Beautiful/ DORIANNE LAUX

                             and remote, and useful,
if only to itself. Take the fly, angel
of the ordinary house, laying its bright
eggs on the trash, pressing each jewel out
delicately along a crust of buttered toast.
Bagged, the whole mess travels to the nearest
dump where other flies have gathered, singing
over stained newsprint and reeking
fruit. Rapt on air they execute an intricate
ballet above the clashing pirouettes
of heavy machinery. They hum with life.
While inside rumpled sacks pure white
maggots writhe and spiral from a rip,
a tear-shaped hole that drools and drips
a living froth onto the buried earth.
The warm days pass, gulls scree and pitch,
rats manage the crevices, feral cats abandon
their litters for a morsel of torn fur, stranded
dogs roam open fields, sniff the fragrant edges,
a tossed lacework of bones and shredded flesh.
And the maggots tumble at the center, ripening,
husks membrane-thin, embryos darkening
and shifting within, wings curled and wet,
the open air pungent and ready to receive them
in their fecund iridescence. And so, of our homely hosts,
a bag of jewels is born again into the world. Come, lost
children of the sun-drenched kitchen, your parents
soundly sleep along the windowsill, content,
wings at rest, nestled in against the warm glass.
Everywhere the good life oozes from the useless
waste we make when we create—our streets teem
with human young, rafts of pigeons streaming
over the squirrel-burdened trees. If there is
a purpose, maybe there are too many of us
to see it, though we can, from a distance,
hear the dull thrum of generation’s industry,
feel its fleshly wheel churn the fire inside us, pushing
the world forward toward its ragged edge, rushing
like a swollen river into multitude and rank disorder.
Such abundance. We are gorged, engorging, and gorgeous.

feb 19/RUN

3.5 miles
mississippi river road path, south/north
8 degrees/feels like 8
99% uneven, sharp, crusty snow-covered

Checked the weather before leaving and noticed that the actual temperature was the same as the feels like temp so no metaphors or similes or approximations today. Just the Is or the It or the This or whatever you want to call it. Is this possible? Hard to find meaning without metaphor.

Observations:

  1. Running south, everything was sharp and crisp and brittle. Sounds were louder and harder and traveled farther. The crunch of my foot was a quick snap. I could hear the kids yelling and laughing at the school from several blocks away. The cars were rushing loudly.
  2. Running north, it was much quieter. Muted. Soft. I didn’t hear the kids until I was right on the other side of the road from them. I hardly heard the cars.
  3. Was there something about the quality of the air–how cold it was, how humid–that made the sound travel the way it did?
  4. The sun was very bright. I could see my shadow.
  5. The path was covered with crusty, uneven snow which was difficult to run on.
  6. At first, it was very cold. Slowly I warmed up. The last part of me to not be cold were my fingers. By mile 3, I had folded my gloves over so they were only on my knuckles and the tips of my fingers.
  7. I didn’t encounter any walkers or bikers and only 2 runners.
  8. The river was completely covered over with snow. No open water.
  9. I looked for the lone glove left by the side of the path. It’s gone. I wonder what happened to it?

Moment:

Running back north, I realized I was on the marathon route. Next October, I will be running this stretch around mile 16. I thought about that and how I wanted to remember what it looked like now in the middle of the winter, with the snow piled up on the side of the path, on the trees, on the trashcans. The river, covered. The path emptied of people. Will I be able to remember? Also gave future Sara a pep talk.

This was a wonderful run. It was cold and the path was too icy and uneven, but I loved being out there today. Tomorrow it is supposed to snow, maybe as much as 6 inches. Then more this weekend. Thinking about snow, I found a snippet of a poem in my notebook from last year:

Kinds of Snow/Su Smallen

There is snow that falls separate from the sky, and snow
that is the sky itself falling, the sky itself reaching down to us…

feb 2/RUN

4.75 miles
stone arch bridge to home
28 degrees
50% snow-covered
feels like: spring, sun, dripping eaves

One way runs are the best. No loops or turn arounds or thoughts about how I’ll have to run back up the hill I just ran down. Ran from downtown, right by the Stone Arch bridge, through the flats, up Franklin, under Lake Street, above the gorge, to the 36th street parking lot on the river road.

9 things I remember noticing:

  1. my striking feet sinking into soft mushy snow
  2. very bright, warm sun but no shadow
  3. running into the sun, I was blinded. All I could see were the sparkling spots of bare pavement on the path that the sun was illuminating
  4. spots of slick but not slippery snow in the shade
  5. passing under the light rail on the washington ave bridge, hearing it rumble then honk
  6. water trickling off of eaves, bridges, down rocks in the flats
  7. a dog’s collar clanging off to the side, turning and seeing it walking with its human right above the gorge
  8. river was covered with snow and ice, no black holes today
  9. heard voices coming from the hill up the U of M’s Wilson Library. Were they biking? Running? Walking? Not sure.

layers

two pairs of tights, green base shirt, orange warmer shirt, black vest, buff, hat, gloves, sunglasses. Today, the gloves came off, around mile 3, probably right after running up the franklin hill.

chants while breathing

I can’t remember when it happened but sometime in the 3rd or 4th mile, I started rhythmic breathing (in 3 out 2) and creating chants to match. I tried to remember them, but now I can’t. Except: raspberry/custard. mystery/is solved. who could it/be now? it could be/nothing. why is it/ something? These chants really helped by distracting me. I’ll have to remember to do these again.

Sadly, I spent a lot of mental energy paying attention to the path and thinking about which side I should run on. In the middle with the bare pavement but in the way of others? On the soft snow but out of the way of approaching bikers? Right next to the walking path? Close to the cars, on the edge?

sept 28/RUN

10 miles!
downtown loop with slight variation
46 degrees/up to 17mph wind

10 miles! 10 miles! Without stopping! I ran up 3 really steep hills without any problems. A perfect morning. My legs felt really strong and I knew that I could run the entire way. No doubts. Ran on the river road path down the Franklin hill, through the Bohemian flats, up the I 35 hill, past the Guthrie, down to Mill Ruins park, up a steep hill back to the river road then home. Occasionally my knee felt a little sore or my shoulder tight or my foot ached, but only briefly. The rest of the time I felt good and joyful and grateful to be having good runs after over a year of struggling with my knee. The last time I ran 10 miles without stopping was April 22 of 2017. 19 months ago.

What do I remember from the run? More than 10 Things

  1. Being able to almost see the forest floor.
  2. Trying to keep a steady pace as another runner slowly passed me.
  3. Watching my shadow run ahead of me, then beside me, then ahead of me again.
  4. Feeling excited when I realized that they added a solid white line on the biking path in the flats for us runners who don’t want to run on the seriously slanted walking path right by the river’s edge.
  5. Hearing some loud cracks over at the U, deciding it was construction work but still wondering if it were gunfire.
  6. Hearing a bus rumble by above my head as I ran under the Washington Ave bridge.
  7. Admiring the lush green grass under the bridge, finally returning after years of being a construction dump site for the bridge collapse debris.
  8. Feel surprisingly okay running up the very long hill right before downtown.
  9. Encountering the dude painting the white line that I was so excited about with a weird machine that looked like a lawnmower near the memorial for the people who died when the bridge collapsed.
  10. The rough, uneven planks on the river road by the Mill City Museum and the sign that reads, “Caution: planks slippery when wet”
  11. Instead of running on the Stone Arch Bridge, taking the path down to the Mill Ruins park, running past an embarrassed woman about the get her picture taken.
  12. Hearing a tour guide barking out directions at a group of young kids.
  13. Running up the steep path that connects back up to the path, right by the bridge collapse memorial, and passing several people, including two girls who had been running up the hill but gave up.
  14. Running down a steep hill and feeling great.
  15. The shimmery sparkle of the sun on the river’s edges near the flats.
  16. Flashes of white boats through the trees near the rowing club.
  17. Spotting at least one roller skier, several other runners, many walkers, a few dogs, some bicycles. No daily walker. No Santa runner (an older runner who is super fast and has a white beard like Santa Claus).
  18. Almost being tripped by a stupid squirrel, darting out in front of me.
  19. Looking at the spray painted image of a butt with wings and a heart on the left cheek under the Lake Street bridge that Rosie pointed out last weekend.

sept 21/RUN

8.2 miles
franklin loop + extra
52 degrees/wind: 21 mph with gusts up to 32 mph

8.2 miles without stopping. This is the most I’ve run without stopping since before my knee injury in June of 2017. It felt good. I was originally planning just to run the Franklin loop but I was feeling good and decided to keep going. Running an extra 3 miles is a big mental victory for me. I rarely can get myself to run extra. And I didn’t mind the wind. I used to hate the wind, now I love it. Strange. The only time it was really bad was on the lake street bridge heading back to Minneapolis. I was running straight into it. A couple of times I was worried I would be blown across the path.

What else do I remember? 10+ Things I Noticed

  1. the gray sky, how it made the green glow softly
  2. saw a roller skier (west side of river) and a rollerblader (east side)
  3. the runner passing me from behind, his long stride looked relaxed but slightly strange
  4. the clicking of a gear being changed on a bike
  5. Minneapolis parks people out repainting the walking/biking signs on the path
  6. hearing one of their vehicles rapidly approaching from behind, then watching it speed by beside me
  7. flashes of yellow and orange almost hidden in the green trees
  8. the blue gray Mississippi
  9. my left shoulder aching every so often
  10. feeling warm, then cooling off because of the wind
  11. noticing the metal steps on the st. paul side that Scott, Rosie and I walked up last weekend when we checked out Meeker Lock and Dam
  12. running above, trying to look down below to see where the dog park path is
  13. the beautiful view of the river and the tree line on the path just past the lake street bridge
  14. the orange vest of a gardener digging up dirt by the side of the road
  15. feeling strong and not bothered by how strong the wind was
  16. turning onto the river road path and falling in behind a runner in shorts and a gray sweatshirt. Not sure how fast she was running, but it was faster than me

sept 20/RUN

4.2 miles
mississippi river road path, north/south/north again
60 degrees/rain

A steady rain. Not torrential but constant and very wet. Today might be one of the first times I went out to run and it was already raining. Usually I try to get a quick run in before it starts but end up getting stuck in it. Today it started to rain before I could leave and I went anyway. And I didn’t mind. I think I might be done ever running inside on a track. I’ll run in heat, snow, rain, wind, below zero temperatures. Lot of conditions…except thunderstorms.

The theme for today’s run: water

List: 10+ types of water experienced

  1. soft, steady rain falling straight down
  2. rain collecting on the bill of my visor, always a single drop sitting in the corner of my peripheral vision
  3. a soaked shirt sticking to my stomach
  4. soggy shoes and socks
  5. huge puddles on the sidewalk on the way to the river, hard to run around, hard to leap over
  6. wet, slick leaves on the path, not slippery just saturated
  7. drops playing a constant downbeat on the trees grass dirt….I wondered as I ran: is rain always steady, in 4/4 time? Anyone ever heard triplets or a 16th note rest?
  8. running too close to the edge of the path and getting a face full of wet branch
  9. water dripping on my head, dripping through my visor, mixing with the sweat on my forehead
  10. spray from my very wet ponytail
  11. tiny drops of rain landing on my watch face
  12. cold wet legs shoulders fingers
  13.  car wheels whooshing by
  14. the river, a contemplative blue
  15. only one quick break from the unrelenting rain: running under the Lake Street bridge

I enjoyed running in the rain. Mostly because it was cooler but also because it was different and unusual. I felt a kinship with the 2 or 3 other runners I encountered, we the weirdos willing to wade through the water-soaked path in order to run outside.

sept 25/XT

bike: 25 minutes
bike stand, front room

In addition to biking for almost half an hour, I took my dog on 3(!) walks without my knee brace. No knee brace! Very exciting. I still can’t run for another two weeks, but it’s exciting to feel confident enough to walk without the brace. My knee and leg are getting stronger.

I have 2 weeks left before I can start running. I’d like to take that time to revisit some of my thinking about walking. Although I was very happy to be walking so much today, none of my walks were particularly transcendent.  Most of my time was divided between making sure my knee felt okay and making sure that Delia the dog kept moving. No brilliant thoughts. No poetic lines. No problems solved.

What did I notice?

  1. The gigantic cottonwood trees that made my neck ache and my head dizzy as I tried to look up at them.
  2. The huge hostas that encircled another cottonwood tree, a little further up the street.
  3. The burnt gold of the leaves of another tree. A maple, maybe or an oak? For the past few years, I’ve mostly seen glowing yellow leaves; these were golden.
  4. The bright pinks and yellows of the zinnias.
  5. The crows cawing as we walked through the Dowling community garden.
  6. The wooden camel lawn ornament in the yard of a house right next to the garden.
  7. The buzzing of the cicadas–more intensely electric in the morning, a slower hum in the afternoon
  8. A police siren.
  9. The walnut shells, broken up and discarded, that looked almost like mounds of poop, at least to me.
  10. The stillness of the air and the Mississippi river. No rowers on the river.
  11. The bright blue lights that framed the inside of the front window of a house.

That’s all I remember. How different would this list be if I had composed it right after getting back from my walk, or while I was on the walk?