Tag: morning

dec 2/RUN

4.5 miles
minnehaha falls and back
16 degrees
75% snow-covered

Running in the snow! I love it, especially with my new Yaktrax. Bought 2 pairs at Costco yesterday. The technology of them has improved since I bought my last pair a few years ago. My old pair has coils, almost like the spiral in a spiral notebook — and unfortunately like the spiral in a spiral notebook, they can get twisted and uncoil and poke you with their sharp ends. The new version has plastic knobs with metal, so no un-spiraling. Future Sara can discover the limits of this technology after we’ve run a hundred or so miles in them.

The river was completely covered with snow and ice. Closer to the falls, it was all white, closer to home, it was more gray. The falls and the creek were still flowing.

I wore more winter layers than I probably needed. I had on my below 0 layers: 2 pairs of black running tights, 2 long-sleeved shirts — one black, one green, a purple jacket, a gray buff, a black fleece-lined cap with ear flaps, 2 pairs of gloves — black, pink and white striped, hand warmers — they’re called “Little Hotties”. I probably wouldn’t have worn the hand warmers if FWA hadn’t opened a pair for his Delia walk, but it was nice to have them.

The view of the river, the gorge, the bare trees, the other side was beautiful. The air was a satisfying and sharp cold. Even better than that though were the birds. My favorite part of the run. Tiny birds, black blurs springing up from below as I stood above the waterfall and the creek below. Movement everywhere, flitting up and down and over and out. One time, a leaf imitating a bird. Running on the path, something landed just in front of me. I thought it was a bird, but it was a dead leaf that had been lifted then dropped by the wind. Another time, a tiny bird trying to outrun me on the ground, then leap-flying, then giving up and flying away.

Standing behind the Rachel Dow Memorial Bench, I witnessed another bird land on a tree branch. I only saw it by its movement, and then when it stopped, I believed it was still there. I think I could still see it there for a moment, but I’m not sure.

echolocation, again

One more manuscript to submit — the big one — by the end of this month. Trying to add a little bit more that’s explicitly about echolocation to reinforce it as the thread that stitches it all together. Decided to look up echolocation in the OED (online through my local library, which is awesome):

1944– The location of objects by means of the echo reflected from them by a sound-signal

Coined in an article from 1944 for Science, “Echolocation by Blind Men, Bats, and Radar” by Donald R. Griffin. Was able to get a pdf of it, thanks to RJP’s access to it through school. Maybe I’ll take a phrase from it, or I’ll make an erasure out of it, or? A few minutes later: I read it; it’s short, so I’m not sure about using it. I’ll read it again while I wait for Scott to be done with jazz band rehearsal tonight.

I’m also thinking of offering definitions at the beginning of echolocation, or maybe offering them at the end. Echolocation: locating objects by their echoes / echo location: locations where echoes dwell / echolocate: the act of using echoes / echolocated: the object/subject/something that has been located by echoes

dec 1/RUN

3 miles
ywca track

The first run at the track in over 2 years. I looked it up and the last run at this track was 4 dec 2023. Not much has changed, which was good. It felt like time traveling. Lots of memories at the y with kids on swim team and inside winter running. I wore my bright yellow shoes, and between them and the bouncy track surface, I felt like I was flying. Fun! and also strange and awkward at first. Running at this track — 6 laps is a mile — is easier than the treadmill, but it’s still hard to run for a long time. I ran without stopping for 20 minutes, then walked a lap, then ran a lap, walked a lap, ran 2.

Aside from the dry and warm and not slippery conditions, one of the best things about running on the track is the chance to encounter the same people over and over, loop after loop.

10 People

  1. the fast runner in blue shorts — a great runner, graceful, making it look effortless — he passed me at least 3 or 4 times
  2. a short-ish woman in black pants and a white jacket walking slowly (and obliviously) in the middle lane, often veering slightly to the outside running lane
  3. 2 tall guys, one in a red shirt, walking and chatting
  4. later, one of the guys, starting to run
  5. an older woman, tall, in black pants, with short hair, her head cocked slightly to the right as she walked
  6. a woman in bright yellow shorts, running, her gait was strange: bouncy, but striking on the wrong part of her foot — too much vertical movement?
  7. 2 people chatting near the window — one of them complaining about how, because of insurance and property tax increases, her mortgage was jumping from $800 a month to $1300
  8. a guy in the far right corner, punching a bag in a steady and strong rhythm
  9. a woman walking with purpose, her locker key jangling in her pocket with each step
  10. someone entering the track and stopping in the middle of the lane to adjust their shoe — they saw me in plenty of time and moved out of the way — thanks!

Earlier today, or yesterday?, I came up with a ywca goal for December: swim a 5k. Now I’m thinking that I should have a running/track goal too. Run a 10k? Run an all out mile? I’ll think about it some more.

locker room encounter

Sandwiched between 2 other people changing, it was awkward. I overheard one say to the other, do you smell hot chocolate? I didn’t, and then suddenly I did. It smelled good. Without thinking, which is something I do more often because of my vision, I blurted out, excuse me, did one of you just say it smells like hot chocolate? One of them said, it’s my cocoa butter. I responded, it smells so good!

nov 28/HIKERUN

hike: 40 minutes
Minnehaha Dog Park
21 degrees

Since July or August, FWA and I have been taking Delia-the-dog to the dog park every Friday morning. We’ve only missed one Friday, when we were in Chicago. We took her a few days later, instead. I wasn’t sure if we’d go this morning because it was much colder, but we did. Wow! What a great walk! The dog park is like a winter wonderland. The trail was hard dirt, but no snow, and there was barely any wind. Lots of sun, calm, quiet air, and a river, still and sparkling. I was bundled up in long underwear and my new winter hat and gloves. Had a great talk with FWA about a new project he’s working on.

There was a moment — hard dirt path, bright sun, snow, tree trunks all around of various thicknesses, birds or Bird chirping above, crisp cold air, listening to FWA talk about something he was passionate about, being outside and moving through beautiful land. I told FWA that this moment was making my top ten images of Winter.

run: 4.25 miles
locks and dam / wabun / ford bridge and back
22 degrees
10% snow and ice-covered

With the warm sun, low wind, crisp refreshing air, and the clear path, I knew I needed to go out for a run. I was planning to run to the bottom of the locks and dam no. 1 to admire the river, then walk up the hill and run back, but I got to the bottom and someone was doing a video — they had their camera on a tripod and were standing with their back to the bridge, talking to the camera in Russian — I think it was Russian. I didn’t really stop, just turned around. I decided to run up the Wabun hill and over the ford bridge on the south side, then back on the north side.

Beautiful and wonderful and moments that were effortless, others that were difficult. A small mental victory: I wanted to stop and walk again, but I saw the bright yellow crosswalk sign at 38th street far in the distance. I told myself that I could keep running until I got to it if I just put one foot in front of the other and did it. I did!

10 Things

  1. the river surface was scaled and gun metal gray except for where it was burning silver
  2. a man with a dog, walking fast — I ran to the far side of the path to avoid them. even so, the dog lunged as I ran past and almost reached me
  3. cars driving fast! over the bridge — zoom zoom
  4. stopping at the bench above the edge of the world to admire the view — the bluff wall on the other shore was speckled white
  5. the grass near the bench was covered with crunchy snow — I listened to the 2 distinct sounds, crunch creak, as I slowly walked over it
  6. running on a bare sidewalk under the ford bridge on the st. paul side, hearing a slight echo from my footsteps and the rumble or whoosh? of car passing me
  7. the cold air rushing through my teal hat and making tassels hanging from the ear flaps bob
  8. the wabun hill was covered in leaves and a little slippery
  9. on parts of the path covered with snow, faint traces of reddish-brown dirt that someone from minneapolis parks had spread earlier
  10. the quick, graceful lift — up down up down up down — of a taller, faster runner behind then ahead of me then gone

nov 27/RUN

4.5 miles
john stevens’ house and back
27 degrees
wind: 18 mph
25% ice covered path

Too cold and icy for Scott, so no Thanksgiving run together. It’s too bad we couldn’t do it, but he made the right choice. Too much wind, too much ice, too many other people running and walking. He would have been miserable. I didn’t love all the run — it was hard to run into that wind! — but I loved a lot of it. It wasn’t too cold or windy or icy for me. Winter running is back!

10 Things

  1. clip clop clip clop a runner approaching from behind, wearing ice spikes and running on bare pavement
  2. 2 runners descending on the part of the path below the road south of the double bridge, one of them in a bright orange jacket
  3. minnehaha falls was rushing and (almost) roaring — I stopped at my favorite spot to watch it fall fast, and in sheets, over the ledge
  4. sometimes a little cloudy, sometimes bright sun
  5. the train bells at 50th street station were chiming frantically
  6. a group of people paying for parking at the falls — I wish I could remember what woman said . . .
  7. kids voices over at longfellow house — were they sledding down the hill like RJP did, when she was a kid?
  8. the view above the edge of the world was open and wintery and calming — I kept my distance from the bench because there was a big branch that looked like it might fall in the strong wind
  9. a human, in dark clothing, and a dog, standing at the Rachel Dow Memorial Bench
  10. the 38th street steps are blocked off for the season — today they were thick with ice

update, the next day: I forgot about the silver surface of the river! Runnng south, it burned in the distance as bright sun hit rough water. Wow!

Happy to have a relaxed, drama-free Thanksgiving. The kids are doing much better, and are getting along. RJP made the stuffing this year; FWA, mac-n-cheese. I made 2 pies: apple and maple cream. And, for the first time, I made my own pie crust! I’m proud of myself for saying I was going to do it, then actually doing it. Now we just have to see how it tastes.

Friday morning (the next day): The pies were excellent! Both of them, thanks to Smitten Kitchen: Maple Cream Pie and Even More Perfect Apple Pie. Scott said the maple cream one reminded him of pumpkin pie but better. I was delighted by how the 1/4 teaspoon of ground ginger brightened the apple pie. When I took my first bite I said, it’s so bright! that ginger really brightens it up!, which FWA found hilarious.

Found this poem today. What does the Mississippi River Gorge smell like?

Yaquina River/ Lana Hechtman


The river smells like the absence of sea,
like sky that has lost its confidence,

current wafting down the centuries from 
natives who lived and died on these shores,

the breaths of children’s laughter, their songs
ripple the slow water that goes

only at the pace it is determined to go.
The river smells like bufflehead feet and goose

feathers, salmon scales and brown silt,
fallen cedar boughs, dropped fir cones,

like women brave enough to swim
and gritty motor boat bottoms.

Slick as oil, clear as rain.
The river smells like green and bronze,

the blue of berries and purple of night, 
smells of floods and grief, of relief 

in times of drought, of every dreamer
who ever skipped stones upon it.

The river smells of sun’s sloped shoulders
and moon’s languid kisses, 

and the riverbank smells like a place
to plant myself for all my remaining years

rich delta, aroma I have come to love
despite missing the sea.

nov 26/BIKERUN

bike: 16 minutes
run: 1.25 miles
basement

It rained, then snowed last night. Today: 2 inches of icy snow on the ground. Even so, I decided to go out for a run. I got bundled up and headed out. Almost immediately I realized it was too icy and my legs and feet tensed up. I was less worried that I would slip and fall, and more that I would run strangely and strain something. So I ran for a few blocks, then turned up a block and walked back. It was disappointing because it felt good to be outside, to breathe in the cold air. Returning, I heard a strange, almost squeaking, creaking noise. I thought it might be some branches rubbing near a fence, but when I looked at them I couldn’t see anything. A minute later, I encountered a woman with a dog. She called out, it’s the sandhills! they’re migrating! I said — oh, they’re up in the sky?! how cool! I’m assuming she meant sandhill cranes — I just looked it up and yes, it was Sandhill cranes! I listened to their call and it sounded like what I was hearing earlier. Nice! I’m so glad I got outside!

Before I biked, I had to put my bike back on the stand and pump up the tires. It’s the first indoor bike of the season. I watched the rest of Lucy Charles Barclay’s race recap from the 70.3 World Champs. I’m always impressed with the mental toughness of the professional runners and triathletes.

Running on the treadmill wasn’t fun. I needed better music — and a better attitude, I guess. I’d rather be running outside or at the ywca track. I listened to a podcast, which didn’t help me forget that I was running in the dark basement on a treadmill. I’m still glad I did it and that I can burn some energy in the basement when the weather is too bad to be outside or to drive to the y.

nov 24/RUN

7.5 miles
lake nokomis and back
47 degrees

A big goal of 2025 achieved: I ran over to the lake and back! I think this is the first time I’ve done that this year (I’ll have to check later). Since I accomplished that goal a month early, maybe I can add another goal for December: run to the lake and back without stopping. Today I stopped to walk, but only after I had run 3.3 miles. Stopping was mostly a mental issue, although I also started speeding up too much a few times, which elevated my heart rate and made it harder to keep going.

Another beautiful day — at least to me. It was gray and brown and dull yellow. Humid. The moisture made the air cooler when I stopped to walk.

10 Things

  1. a roller skier, graceful and smooth in their motions and the rhythm between their legs and arms
  2. the path under the ford bridge was closed: tree work
  3. running on the grass through large piles of leaves
  4. the creek was very low
  5. only one spot on the creek was babbling as water rushed over the rocks
  6. 2 people walking and talking on the pedestrian bridge, reviewing/planning their Thanksgiving menu
  7. the dock is disconnected, part of it in the middle of the lake, the other in the grass between the path and the water
  8. geese in the swimming area, one of them flapping its wings furiously
  9. the thwack of a ball on the pickleball court (someone is always playing! do they play in the winter?)
  10. the very strong, unpleasant smell of weed near the 44th street parking lot

before the run

Discovered this delightful line in poets.org’s poems of the day, Egg Tooth/ Benjamin Garcia

Ears are the eyes on the sides of your head. 

Ears are the eyes on the side of your head makes me think of what I read last night about echolocation from Daniel Kish (Batman) who sees through sonar.

Activating the Visual Cortex to rewire the brain

Our collaborative projects with research centers in the U.S. and around the world have led to the discovery that the echoes from FlashSonar clicks reflect off surrounding objects, sending auditory signals that activate, and are processed by the brain’s Visual Cortex.

Visioneers

Auditory signals that activate the visual cortex? Very cool. A decade ago, before my vision declined dramatically and before I knew much about vision, I would have found this statement impossibly strange, but now I know better. The brain is amazing and adaptable and its ability to compensate for faulty eyes is not surprising at all.

oops — for the second time in less than a week, I didn’t see my water glass on a table and put something down too close to it and tipped it over. Last week, water spilled all over a New Yorkers. This morning: my laptop. Boo! No more clear water glasses. Time to rely exclusively on my bright blue hydroflask.

during the run

I thought about seeing with my ears and echolocation and listening to the sharp sounds my feet made as I ran. Closed my eyes a few times while I was running to see how it felt and what I could notice. Wow — I need to work on my balance when my eyes are closed!

writing update

I have (almost) finished my manuscript, Echo // location (formerly known as girl ghost gorge and haunts before that). Also put together a chapbook out of the rock poems in it that I’m calling, Riprap which I’ll submit this week.

nov 23/RUN

3.1 miles
bottom of locks and dam hill
49 degrees

Oh, the sun! Warm enough for me to take my sweatshirt off halfway through the run. Beautiful by the gorge with the bare branches and open view. A few of the trees looked silvery. Was it because the sun was hitting the smallest branches, or a few tiny leaves? There were a lot of lone roller skiers out on the trail. One of them looked awkward, as if they were testing out their skis for the first time in years, or ever. Some bikers, walkers, other runners. An adult and 2 kids howling under the ford bridge. Why?

My favorite part of the run: the surface of the river at the bottom of the hill. A clear reflection of the bridge arches in the water, but the water wasn’t smooth. It looked like an impressionist painting or brush strokes or something else related to a painting. I wondered why, then I realized: the clouds! A sky filled with feathery clouds reflected on the water!

Heading back up the hill I heard the 2 kids and the adult again. This time they were quietly talking up in the bridge arches. I ran for another mile, stopping when I reached a 5k. I walked the rest of the way, admiring the shadows and the tiny buds (is that what they are?)

nov 22/RUN

6 miles
hidden falls overlook
40 degrees

Sun! Warmer (but not too warm) air! An open view! And 6 miles! A good run. I’m tired now and my legs are sore, but I felt strong and light and full of energy at the end.

10 Things

  1. click scrape scrape click — a roller skier’s poles approaching from behind
  2. one roller skier bundled up, another in shorts
  3. running beside 2 roller skiers, one of them listening to the other express concern/frustration about some part of his ski not locking in right
  4. a mini peloton on the road — 10 bikes?
  5. small scales on the surface of the gray water
  6. a serpentine of big cracks and asphalt erupting on the st. paul path
  7. the small building above the hydroelectric plant on the st. paul side is spray-painted bright pink
  8. the gentle trickle of water over the rocks at hidden falls
  9. a bad heavy metal hair band anthem blasting out of the window of a white car
  10. not a wide open view — too many thin branches — but the feeling of openness and air on the st. paul side

Thought about my rock, river, and air chants as I ran. Recited (in my head) as much of the rock one as I could remember. Liked the groove I fell into as I chanted

poet’s clock
poet’s clock
poet’s clock
this big rock

Finishing up the run, I felt strong and fast and proud as I thought about all the work I’ve put in over more than a decade of coming to the gorge at least 3 or 4 times a week, sometimes more, and running and noticing and writing.

nov 19/RUN

5.2 miles
bottom and franklin and back
39 degrees

Another great late morning for a run. Overcast, possibly some drizzle/freezing rain/flurries. Not too cold, not too windy. Everything gray with brown and dull yellow. Listened to music because I had the King George song from Hamilton in my head — Billie Eilish, then my time and moment playlists. Even with the headphones in, I could hear a loud rumble below. Some sort of big machine doing something — was it at the white sands beach? I noticed a walker notice the sound too. He was startled, then confused, then curious as he peered down, trying to figure out what was causing the ruckus.

Witnessed a big, dark brown squirrel dart fast across my path. So fast that I didn’t have to stutter-step. Stopped at the bottom of the hill for a port-a-potty stop and to admire the river: blueish gray with little ripples. All open, no ice chunks yet. Stopped again at the sliding bench and in the tunnel of trees just above the floodplain forest. Took out my headphones and listened to the gorge. It sounded like it might be softly raining. Heard loud rustling, saw a flash of movement down below. Felt calm, relaxed.

At the sliding bench, I took a picture of the progress: open! no leaves to block out my view of the white sands beach, only thin branches that I can see through!

sliding bench / 19 nov 2025

One more thing about the run that I almost forgot. During the second half, after I climbed out of the flats, I felt fast and free. I had a huge smile on my face and was almost feeling a runner’s high. I haven’t experienced one of those in a while.

more of echo location

echolocation: using sonar flashes to “see” / interpreting echoes (as sound, as reverberations from the past) / navigation / location / locating and being located / finding being found / placing being placed / listen for echoes / gain substance and become an echo / repeat, not same but similar / the location of echoes / an indication of a big and open space / using words and sounds and syllables to place my self, to become more than ghost, girl

“Echolocation is the act of emitting a sound that bounces off an object or surface and comes back to you as an echo. This echo can help determine distance, location, motion, size, shape or surface material” (source).

Passive echolocation is sound that occur incidentally in the environment. As a car travels through a tunnel, the sound changes as the car enters the tunnel, travels through it and exits the tunnel. The sound your cane makes on the ground as you tap or roll will be different when you are next to a building compared to in an open area without obstruction.

Active echolocation, on the other hand, is sound you consciously produce like clapping your hands or clicking your tongue. Eventually, the sound you create bounces off other objects and comes back to you. Since your brain is familiar with the sounds you make, the echoes are easier for you to distinguish. By consistently emitting a sound and waiting for the sound to change, you can use active echolocation to help you navigate through an environment.

source

 How does the
sound of your
footsteps change
as you move
from tile floor
to carpet?
Listen to
the sound your
voice makes when
you are in
a small room
compared to
a large room.

Sit in a
moving car
passing by
parked cars. Roll
your window
down. Listen
to how sound
shifts between
each parked car
as you pass them.

you learn to
hear doorways
and walls and
wide open
spaces

Echolocation is an interesting metaphor within poetry and an important practical approach to navigating an unseen (or not seen) world.

Location for me is about recognition — being seen, offered a place in the family of things, and recognizing others (being held by/holding). And it is also about literally locating and navigating a world. As my vision fails, what other ways can I safely move through space?

And, here are a few lines from U A Fanthorpe that link echoes with ghosts and remind me of echolocation — especially those humpback whales:

Ghosts of past, present, future.
But the ones the living would like to meet are the echoes
Of moments of small dead joys still quick in the streets

These are the ghosts the living would prefer,
Ghosts who’d improve our ratings. Ghosts
Of the great innocent songs of freedom
That shoulder their way round the world like humpback whales

nov 18/RUNSWIM

4.3 miles
marshall loop
35 degrees

The forecast was for 2+ inches of sloppy snow early this morning. Maybe rain too. Completely dry. Everything happened just south of us. Hooray! Great conditions for a run. Not too cold or too windy or too crowded. Today’s mental victory: I ran all the way up the marshall hill, over to the river, and down the summit hill without stopping. Stopped at the overlook on the bridge for a minute to check out the sandbar and the reflections and the smooth surface of the river. Beautiful.

10 Things

  1. egg/breakfast sausage smells coming from Black Waffle Bar — no sweet waffle smell
  2. no more leaves on the trees, all on the sidewalk
  3. cars backed up on lake street
  4. the light at the top of the hill: red
  5. smell: savory, eggs and bacon
  6. a car parked in a driveway blocking the path
  7. the bent and crooked slats from blinds in a garage window
  8. two people standing and looking at a stone wall above the ravine near shadow falls
  9. a roller skier on the path, then on the road
  10. several stones stacked on the ancient boulder

echo / / location

I can’t quite remember how it happened, but I was thinking about my Girl Ghost Gorge poems and echoes and chanting — oh, yes, it had something to do with sound and a call for submissions for soundscapes in poetry. As I thought about my rock river air chants, ECHOLOCATION, suddenly popped into my head!

Echolocation is a great title for this collection. Or, echo location. Or, echo | | location. Or, as Scott suggested, echo / / location. I looked it up and someone has a poetry collection with the title echolocation. Is that a problem? To have the same name? I’m not sure. I like the sound of girl ghost gorge, and a girl (me), her ghosts, and the gorge are the theme that inspired all of the poems. But, being located in time and space — both placing myself and being placed by others — seems even more like the theme. At the very least, I’d like to title the final poem of the collection, echolocation.

Here’s something to read about humans and echolocation: How Does Human Echolocation Work? It’s with Daniel Kish, Batman from an Invisibilia episode.

The rest of today is about studying echolocation!

I mentioned echolocation in these past entries:

update, several hours later: I received an email today from a journal that published one of my poems: I’ve been nominated for a Pushcart Prize! This is my second nomination, which is really exciting! It’s for “The Cut-off Wall” (“The Cut-Off Wall” — Rogue Agent, March 2025).

Also, another cool thought about my collection and the chants in it. I’ve been playing around with making the shape of the river out of words in my river chant:

flow flow flow
slow slow slow

In early drafts, I had the words form the river, but now I’m thinking of making a page of these words and removing some to form the shape of the river/gorge. It’s echolocation with the syllables flow and slow bouncing off the object I cannot see! I’m imagining a sound accompaniment to this, inspired by Diana Khoi Nguyen’s reading of her “Triptych” for Ours Poetica:

inspiration starts 2 minutes in

Nguyen doesn’t remove words, but creates space in-between them where the shapes of her brother would be if he had not cut himself out of the photograph. I need to think about how I want to do it — like in this poem, or by removing some of the chanted words altogether. Maybe I wouldn’t call them chants but echolocations?

I think I’d like to do them for all three of the key “objects/subjects”: rock, river, and air! Very cool. I think this would be a great submission for the poetry soundscapes feature that I mentioned earlier in this post.

This section explores poetry in all its sonic dimensions. Across the premodern world, at a time when books were scarce and costly, poetry was often chanted or sung aloud, and the boundary between song and verse was fluid. Many poems resonate with the sounds of nature, while others pulse with onomatopoeia and sonic texture. Later, poets since the early 20th century have pushed the medium to its limits, exploring how the sonic interacts with grammar, rhetoric and rhythm on the page. 

For a special section of Mantis 24 (2026), Soundscapes of Poetry, we invite submissions  that engage with sound in any and all ways—whether through music, noise, onomatopoeia or rhythm, or even the sound of silence itself.

submission call for Mantis

The only bummer: your submission doesn’t include sound files; it’s only the written word. I’d like to find a journal that also wants the sounds.

swim: 1.5 loops
ywca pool

Another swim! Swam at the y before community band rehearsal. It felt good and it wasn’t crowded. I had my own lane. I felt strong and relaxed and swimming a mile and a half wasn’t hard at all. I tried to think about echolocation while I swam, but I just counted my strokes instead.