Wednesday, March 10, 2010

dredging dunes and dreaming of farms. . . . .

a dozen miles across summer rest loop to shell island and back around. warm sun with cool wind. beach and trail and woods and puddles and I remember less specific thoughts than the impression of my thoughts—the swatch of the mental theater. . . . did think of impressionism as a modern paradigm, appropriate to the nature of my blog. maybe post-impressionist? never mind. . . . .

mindscapes while running today included visualizations of prime number topography on the number line. . . . . Mandelbrot sets of sand and dune and sea formations . . . . . the aleph and the sand and wasn’t infinity once defined as the number of sand granules in the world? and wasn’t it like 2^77 or something strange like that? I should revisit that. . . .

the aum or the ohm and the Buddhist community in Brunswick county just down the road.   a run on their land?

I have to take a moment and praise the Brunswick nature park where the run for ray was held. . . . this is a new park, and the trails saw more action that day than ever before. a nice natural habitat, though I do believe a paper company had been through here maybe ten or fifteen years ago and simply replanted much of the land with evergreen (quick regrowth period) and whatever seeds found their way into the soil. . . . . but town creek cut through the land with a beautiful vista onto black river and a fine kayak launch- the kind with rollers so you launch dry—was built barely a quarter mile off the main entrance road. oaks and dogwoods, pine and spruce all grew from the very fertile dark soil of the hilly terrain, with sand folded into some of the other areas of the park.  ultimately: the hours of hard work and toil earned the southeast coast a wonderful new park.

while I am in this mode of contrition and acknowledgement, my wife takes the cake for giving me hell. but I must also admit that she is the one who pushed me outta the bars into the running paths. the transition was brutal, ungraceful, and frustrating (for both of us), but in running, just for today, I found a tremendous spiritual satisfaction and thus a personal growth. an emergence. albatross became the phoenix.

I began running with kas in the early days of our relationship. after work, and in early morning, she would get me laced up & zipped up and put me on the hills and wooden slats of the boardwalk. crisp breath and coffee and shallow, clotted lungs and torment and agony and the path was not an easy one. soccer lungs had long collapsed, though my legs remained strong and capable. I followed her merciful pace into a longterm commitment.   methadone and miles. . . . .

during this time I smoked. kas was an ex-smoker who outran her nicotine addiction, and she was adamant about my aptitude to quit successfully. so eventually I did quit, two years ago. my lungs are still weaker than most, and in fact were weak as an infant. . . . . the abdominal muscles that work the lungs in long runs have strengthened significantly, and my lungs have adapted to longer runs. I am well and whole and running, and frequently with kyote in the running stroller.  i take aspirin perhaps once a week for lower back aches-- usually work related.

march 7th. 2010.

geoff roes. jeez.

sunday. work has been very busy, unusual for this time of year, and the life-investment of my job has been enervating and frustrating. . . . seems I have either plenty of time or plenty of income, but never both simultaneously. a good run was due, and I was forced by prior commitments to run solo at 8am to finish by 10, so I ran from the house to the beach and back, in vast morning sun and a total of around 13 miles. . . . ran kas to her hair appt. and kyote and I had irish oatmeal and seattle coffee at Atlanta bread company and read some magazines. . . . . eventually kas finished and we went to trysports and bought my new shoes, asics gel-nimbus 11, the same shoes as last, though 25 dollars more (even with 20 dollars off). . . .

Range of Rage. march 9, 2010

eight miler took me round the beaches and the dunes were trampled beneath dredging machinery. . . . . a little railroad earth for the drive home (a long way to go). once home, water and water and haydn’s opus 33 string quartets, third and fourth of the set of six.

asked off for march 27th, the day of the gator trail 50k. figured I’d give it a try, getting off that is. . . . run 31 miles, grill out on our new grill, watch a film. . . . . have a spring saturday with the family. if I can walk. still many preparations and obstacles to clear however. did use up the rest of my dick’s sporting goods gift card for some gu gels, some clif bars, and a hammer gel, just to experiment on some longer runs. hydration and nutrition remain absolutely foreign to me, so the research and efforts begin in earnest for long runs.

memories of banner elk, elk falls, lees mcrae, wooly worm festival. . . . . deep gap mountain homes. . . . all the majestic beauty of the Appalachians. summers in amish country in Pennsylvania. Gettysburg. back to the nc mountains & the parkway.

many thoughts hover around visions of my farm—my future working farm. . . . . . for creatives who have strayed. work, run, eat well, see the cycle of their food and thus provide them with fundamental meditations, and let them heal their inner pain. my farm. . . . . a healing commune and a dream far, far in the future I fear. first step farm. robert frost.  always been a dream of mine, to establish a self-sufficient community. . . . . a healing space.  something between a working farm and a monastary. . . . . never mind.

This year's brought 243 miles of runnin'.

carolina beach state park and greenfield park, two local treasures. 

happy trails y'all!