I've learned to load my ipod's playlist with more song, and fewer long podcasts. Music provides a significant boost that can push me through some of those tough miles.
I started by listening to a podcast about "Erotic Integrity". This got me thinking fondly about the state of my own marriage. We're in a fun phase and it feels like we're almost reshaping our marriage, but not because anything was broken. We're sharing some adventures (such as a trip to couple's night at The Little Red Spa last Sunday), and it seems like our communication is easier and smoother than ever.
As I crossed the Montlake Bridge, I entered familiar territory: I lived in the U-District for a few years, and went to school at UW. I did my share of running on the Burke Gillman trail, and it was nice to revisit that old stomping ground in an old familiar way. I spend a fair amount of time in that area nowadays, but I haven't run there for years.
On the Trail, I started crossing runners and bicyclists, not surprisingly. I always wave at runners, if they make the slightest amount of eye contact. I feel like it's an exclusive club, and everyone who is running belongs. I don't care if they're barely jogging for a quarter mile, or in the middle of a megamarathon. It's a cool club that I have tremendous respect for. I even nod and wave at people running with their dogs, who are taking up the whole walkway.
It annoys me when other runners don't make an effort to acknowledge my existence. Really, how hard is it to glance over and nod your head?
I ran all the way to the end of the trail; right at the edge of Ballard, by Fred Meyer.
A hippie chick on a bicycle was singing as she passed me. At the time, it annoyed me because she was riding slowly, and when I know someone's behind me, I have to monitor them. I don't want to be obstructive, and I don't want to get run over. I've probably already mentioned here somewhere that I already start with something of a prejudice against bicyclists.
In retrospect, that hippie chick was fine. She was doing her thing, I was doing mine, and there was no conflict.
My own sanity started to slip just a little on the way back. It was nothing serious; a little sleep deprivation makes you way crazier. I derived an unusual amount of satisfaction by crossing against the light in sight of a police car while the theme to the Dukes of Hazard played in my ears. I had a whole non-defense ready, should I have been stopped: "Yes, I know the law. Yes, I broke it intentionally. Yes, I'll do it again. I've already run 12 miles, and I'm not concerned with laws like that. Go ahead and give me the ticket." But my rebellious attitude was wasted.
As I crossed the Montlake Bridge, this time on the way back, I saw a Children's shuttle. I'm pretty sure the driver recognized me. She kinda did a double take and smile. I waved, and I think she waved back. I was kinda hoping I'd see a shuttle, and I kinda hope folks I know were riding and saw me. No exhibitionism here, no way. I'm too humble for that.
I think it was then that Fred Eaglesmith's "Angel of the Lord" came on, which filled me with profound thoughts of humanity's decline. I agreed with Fred: if Jesus is coming, he better come quick, while there are still those who worry and wait. At least it seemed profound to me then.
Bill Maher was dising on Sarah Palin when within a handful of blocks two, not one, but TWO, women in cars rolled in front of my passage. I was not amused, and I ran my fingers along both cars as I squirted by. Both were dusty. Maybe that will give them a reminder to drive right, and not block sidewalks. A little later a guy in a truck backed a few feet up, out of the line of the sidewalk. I assumed that he did that so as not to block my path. I waved and smiled at him, and he waved back.
A few miles later a guy who had seen me on the way out (over two hours prior!) cheered at me. That was cool. Somewhere in there Bonnie Tyler's "I Need a Hero" played. It's really the music that makes me a little less sane while I'm running. Not in a bad way, mind you. You're already crazy to start a thing like this, so it's good to harness the crazy just a little. I felt like a god walking (er running) on Earth, the white knight she was asking for, the hero.
A Battlestar Galactica podcast took me the rest of the way. That's good, because you can't stay crazy and arrogant the way Bonnie Tyler can make you for too long out there. It wouldn't be safe.
You can find the map to my run here.
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