The Merry-Go-Round

They don't have merry-go-rounds anymore. Why is that? Playgrounds are static these days. Everything is safe, bolted down, rustproof. They're paved with squishy material so if there is an unexpected landing by anyone, it is a safe one, no harm done. I'm all for that. But in exchange for safety we have given up merry-go-rounds? Children today never knew the thrill of the merry-go-round. They never knew what it was like to hang on to a metal bar, one foot cemented to the circular wooden platform, the other kicking up speed till everything spun crazily, hanging on tight to keep from flying off. There were no thoughts of landing on hard concrete, of getting concussed or having the wind knocked out of you. There was only spinning trees and the blurred horizon, the still air suddenly whipped into froth; and the pull. A tug so hard it turned your knuckles white with the fighting of it. A tug that wrapped its invisible arms around you, its one hundred invisible arms, and tried pulling and prying you from that speeding platform. It was a pull that made the cells in your body pop with excitement, that made something race around under your skin, made percussion instruments of your internal organs. And instead of screaming in fear, you could only laugh, hysterically, the way you weren't supposed to, inches away from being splattered. And when the world slowed down and the risk of falling ceased, you stuck your foot back out on the earth and pushed and pushed and pushed till the world went around at a dizzying speed again. This time you'd risk a little more: lean out from the platform, tip you head back, close your eyes, and let the day contract into a single great battle between holding on and the temping desire to let go.

 

He Carries Me

I run because of Him.
He is my endurance,
perseverance, and 
inspiration. When I near the end
and my feet coincide with the copious pounding
of my heart. It is Him.

He carries me.

I Hate Track Days

I wish I could explain to you how much I hate track days. Unfortunately, my trainer Keith Wise, makes me train on the track every tuesday, bright and early, at 8am. Preparation for these days usually begin with a aggravated moan as I roll (literally) out of bed at 7:30. I lazily throw my comfortable night clothes on the floor of my room, trading them for an old pair of spandex shorts and a smelly sports bra, all while collecting my hair into a sloppy and careless braid. I usually have time to think about what I'm about to do when I sit down and slap my socks and shoes on my feet. The pain, the agony, the dreadful feeling that my heart is about to explode, those thoughts usually rush through my head.
The thing I hate most about the track is how every single second counts. A 1:42 400-meter is better than a 1:43 400-meter. I can't slow down, I can't give up. I can't even think because it takes too much time. It's the biggest competition known to man: a race against himself; a race against time. And I feel like most runners, especially sprinters know, it's harder than hell to win a race against time.
I am NOT a sprinter. I do not like to sprint more than 100 meters. And when I am forced to sprint longer than 400 meters, i tend to look like a fat kid playing hopscotch. But I suppose that's what its all about, doing the things you don't think you can do.
Running hard enough, there is no such thing. Enough is an operational definition. You can never run hard enough. I guess its better to think about making every second count.
kinda how life should be

Soul Mates

The paradigm for the parable is the story of Adam and Eve. In the book of Genesis, God created Adam as one androgynous being with a complete soul of his own. Then he split Adam in half, creating man and woman, who each possessed half a soul. Only when joined together could they recreate their original wholeness. Adam and Eve, the progenitors of humankind, were the original soul mates- the first blueprint. Plato also advanced the idea of a soul mate. "Platonic love" is not asexual love, as it is commonly understood, but rather the spiritual attraction of one soul to its original mate. Plato considered it the highest form of human love. Some people also describe a "treasury of souls" where souls harmoniously contain both masculine and feminine properties. When a soul decides to inhabit a body- which is the only way it can accomplish its destiny- it must split in two and become a man or a woman. These people believe that, although our soul's purpose is never completely revealed to us, one of the soul's driving forces is to connect with its other half.
Then again, Adam and Eve weren't exactly faced with a wide array of choices. How can we know if we have met out soul mate? Are there any clues? Some people say, "I just know." Sometimes a couple's chemistry is unmistakable-- an intangible connection that transcends physical attraction, almost like a sixth sense. But for many of us, despite the intensity of our romantic feelings, such a clear sense of destiny or fate is missing, and in fact we can never be completely certain. But we learn to listen closer to our instincts and to trust out inner sense. At first glance, our lives may appear to be a series of unrelated events, without purpose, without direction. But if we look back and dissect the pieces of the puzzle, we see that the events that brought us to the present day are more significant than they seemed. What if I never went to that party? What if I didn't miss that plane? What if I wouldn't have eaten lunch at that diner? Individually, these are just tiny details, holding nothing like the weight of destiny. But linked together, they form the quiet miracles that shape and direct our lives, and which we can come to recognize if we pay attention.
We all hope, one day, to meet that special person, the one who seems made just for us. If we've been in a lot of relationships and have yet to find the one where our heart says yes, we may begin to feel despair, feeling we are doomed to be alone. Don't ever be afraid to love someone, just because you've been hurt before. If that describes you, take heart. Destiny may be right next to you and you just don't see it yet.

The Run

 

Most of the time I just like being alone with it.

Because it’s never just a run.

 Its just me and itself,

laid out in front of me in all of its glory.

And once my feet hit cool pavement,

we become one.

As if my rhythmic footsteps are the beat

of a heart in which we share.

Its demands are few,

but strong enough that I can feel them

pushing me,

the wind a solemn hand on my back.

It demands more as I move.

It wants me for all I have,

all I am

because it is jealous,

and unforgiving.

It demands my focus,

my attention,

and I aim for giving it that.

And as the sweat begins to pour down my back,

this is all that I think about.

It listens to me.

It understands my problems,

doubts,

flaws,

weaknesses.
Yet it still wants

all of me.

And when I know I only have a few minutes left,

It lends a hand and pulls me,

Telling me I’m not going to give up,

not going to give in.

And after the final stride,

When I breathe clean air into new lungs,

It sings to me,

and I slowly whisper to myself

 “Good Run.”

But I know it’s never just a run.

Teacher

One persons life touches thousands of other lives in the time span of one day, and each person usually remains unaware. But once in a great while a person will walk into your life and change everything you know about yourself. They'll change who you are, what you want, and how you think. They'll teach you about important things, like hope, faith, endurance, and love. They will make you want to be better, and they will give you the opportunity to just that. And you'll always know that every goal you set thereafter, every mile marker, every achievement, started with them.
I used to think that I could make my own path, and I still firmly believe this to be true. You fight for what you want, work for it, and you'll receive it. But when given the opportunity to learn and be taught, grab that opportunity and hold onto it.
Without this person, life would be empty; because, when it's all said and done, they have taught us everything we know.
~A.

The Line

I am a runner. I run not only because I love to and want to, but because I need to and have to. Running keeps me sane. There is nothing that can calm my nerves like a heart-pounding, breath-taking, muscle-burning run. My run is something  I control completely. I am in charge of how quickly my feet bounce off the pavement and the depth of my breathe as my lungs scream for air. I decide how long I will run and how fast I will run. The intensity, speed, pace, time, power; those are all my choices. Running is an art. Abstract and beautiful, it is open to interpretation. My interpretation is my run itself. It is the excitement I feel when I start a run. It is the endurance I feel as I push myself to be better. It is the onset of fatigue that starts in my legs and creeps it's way up my body, demanding rest and refuel. Then its the dare to keep going, not to fight through the pain but to accept it, to use it. I let it lay on me and push me. And only when the line between pain and pleasure has been blurred, do I stop.