I spent last weekend with my in-laws in Illinois. Needless to say, I was ready to get out there and log a few miles.
Being a city fella, I’m used to stop lights and motor cars when I run. I’m no Joel Fleishman. I’ve seen the wilds of rural America before. I even spent a week at my cousin’s dairy farm when I was eight. So, I know a thing or two about a thing or two. Here’s another situation where I’d benefit greatly from an as-yet-to-be-invented “sarcastic font.”
Despite my urban dependencies, my foray into Midwestern corn country was beyond pleasant. First of all, it was flat — really flat. It was mid-August, and I barely broke a sweat. Here’s how I’d describe the view. Forgive the purple prose: miles and miles of gold-flecked viridian carpet, long dirt roads bisecting corn and soybean fields, braying beasts-of-burden, and straight horizons cut by the the skeletal silence of never-ending power lines.
Sorry, had to get that out of my system.
One morning in particular left me with quite a story. I started out on a six-miler. It would eventually be a cloudless day. But the sky was still holding on to a few clouds at that point (7:30 or so). The smell of hay and durable earth rode on the breeze.
I passed one of the region’s century-old farmhouses with its peeling paint its and acres-big hayloft. And something caught my eye. A single-engine plane banking across a soybean field just beyond the dirt road I was on — its motor barely audible — the cockpit way back along the fuselage. It tipped its wing and headed back in my direction.
A mist of fungicide trailed behind it as it descended and skimmed the crops: a crop duster — my first encounter with a crop duster.
It buzzed me on one pass in particular, which prompted a, “seriously, did you get pesticide on you?” from my wife. A question I never thought someone would ask me. Great stuff. I loved every stride.
It seems grain silos and wheel loaders are good for the soul.
Journalist Christopher McDougall was a man mired by running injuries. Doctors essentially told him, That’s what you get. McDougall just wasn’t buying it, though — not after hearing about Mexico’s Tarahumara Indians, those flip-flop wearing, natural-born marathoners of modern lore. He dug in, learning all he could about the Tarahumara.
He was at for years. He finally came up with: “persistence hunting — a combination of tracking and endurance running over many miles at a time.” He believes persistence hunting is humanity’s first and best exercise.
The ironically named Terra Humera
He reached some other conclusions about the Tarahumara, also the name of a Nike running shoe, and their footwear… or lack thereof:
We’re being fleeced. It’s a pure marketing and product thing. Modern running shoes let people run with their foot in front of their hips, picking up two feet of stride. You can’t do that with the naked foot—it hurts. One of the mysteries out there is that if any shoe in existence really helped prevent injuries, you’d see that in an ad. But you don’t. Over and over again, you’re told you must go to a specialty running store. They’ll say if you’re doing something wrong, you need to buy something to fix it.
After I wrote this book I had heel pain. I couldn’t shake it for a year and a half. I went to a barefoot running coach, and within 15 minutes the problem was solved. What had happened is that I’d started running with a neutral shoe and had regressed back to my old form—leaning back, landing on my mid-foot. That’s what was causing the pain. I’ve been literally afraid to put on running shoes since then.
The Art of War: Still a good title despite it’s 6th century BC origins. It’s no Tuesdays with Morrie, but it has staying power. And given some of the titles floating around back then — Aesop wrote… well Aesop’s Fables and Confucious had the… ahem, Wisdom of Confucious — Sun Tzu was a certifiable wordsmith. Or at least Lionel Giles, the guy who translated it 1910, was.
It seems the 3000-year-old text is making a comeback, though… and that troubles me.
A little background — War’s had a strangle hold on white-collar types in this country since the 80s — thanks to Gordon Gecko’s reverence for the ancient bamboo scroll in Wall Street. Here’s the other reason: Sun Tzu taught the importance of strategy. His focus was on positioning and the effects competition has on one’s position. He said planning was not a series of tasks, but rather an appropriate response to changing conditions.
War explains how one should maneuver around or within these unexpected situations.
Just click the iTunes icon on your desktop, and take a gander at the top audio books. The Art of War is way up there… every week. And it’s been there for over a year now. Call it a sign of the times — a direct response to widespread layoffs and general financial turmoil. I will not use the words “economy” or “recession” as I’m sure you find them as cringe worthy as I do.
Do these ancient combat tactics really apply, though? I’m thinking no. I’m thinking, it’s this “all’s fair in love and blah, blah, blah” stuff that got us in trouble in the first place. Sure, Sun talked about honor, but Mike in accounting isn’t paying that chapter much mind.
These guys need something new to listen to during that long commute to the city. Something with a modern application. Something
uplifting. I’m recommending Judy Blume’s Deenie — the controversial 70s canon of teenage awkwardness. It’s a salacious read. At least it was when I was ten. My elementary school library refused to carry it.
“What does Judy Blume know about climbing that tricky corporate ladder,” you say?
Probably more than a possibly-amalgamated “learned Chinese gentleman and general” born 500 years before Christ did.
I probably run too much. There, I said it. I spend way too much time in my Asics.
Ever seen A&E’s Obsessed– the true-life docuseries that examines the lives of everyday people with unmanageable, repetitive behaviors?
Now, what follows is not meant in any way to downplay the seriousness of these conditions. I’ve just played this thing out in my head a few times, and I had to get it down on paper… figuratively. Here’s how my episode would go:
First segment: three-cord acoustic montage of me running too much and talking about running too much in awkwardly lit, testimonial, staring-at-the-lens interviews.
Second segment: interviews with those concerned about my behavior. Sample excerpt: “He runs too much.” followed by professional analysis of the damage I’m doing to my knees, hips, skin, etc.
Break: fast-forward through second block of ads with convenient DVR fast-forward button
Third segment: quasi-sadistic psychiatrist Shana Doronn utilizes “cognitive behavior therapy with an emphasis on exposure and response prevention” to curtail my running issues — meaning we sit around and don’t run, then I give Dr. Donnon my anxiety level on a scale of one to ten… four.
Not to end my week-long blogging sabbatical with a gripe, but I’ve got a valid complaint here.
I’ve been a loyal Netflix member for a few years now; and I love to find those friendly, red envelopes hiding amongst the penny-saver coupon catalogs and credit-card offers in my mailbox, but the $17 I pay a month for the service seems increasingly out-of-sync with the entertainment value the once-revolutionary company offers.
I’m talking about three little words that constantly appear in the expected availability column in my cue queue: “Very long wait” with a capital V.
Here’s what Netflix has to say about it:
Q:
What does Very Long Wait mean?
A:
Sometimes movies in your Queue may display a wait status. This means that more customers want to see this movie than we have copies. You should keep your movies in the order you want to view them, regardless of their availability, because we ship all copies we have available and you will receive the movie eventually.
Very Long Wait: This means that there is extremely high demand, limited availability and/or a very long wait for this title. Usually the wait is less than 30 days, but could be longer if, for example, the movie is out of print or we are otherwise unable to secure additional copies.
I’m not buying it.
I’m not sure where in the chain of DVD delivery this problem occurs. Are the distributors not making enough copies? Is Netflix not foreseeing the popularity certain flicks will have? I think I’m missing something here. It could very well be part of some elaborate marketing scheme that I don’t have the energy to comprehend.
Because last time I checked, burning a DVD copy wasn’t exactly pricey. There has to be some kind of copyright agreement distribution companies and the royal-red envelope can come to. Supply and demand, Netflix… supply and demand. They would have you believe there’s too much demand. PISH POSH! We’re not talking about diamonds here. They’re ten-cent plastic discs.
So what do I get during this long month of waiting for my no.1 pick? I get some really crappy movies; that’s what I get.
As much as I enjoyed Paul Blart: Mall Cop I dropped it in the no.35 slot right below Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li for a reason. It was plan Z. I didn’t really want to watch it.
I don’t support a free internet. I think artists deserve some compensation for their creations. But this snag has me thinking companies like Hulu should really get into the “extremely high demand” business.
Let’s talk about cheating. Not the matrimonial kind. The kind that’s wormed its way into every competitive activity… ever. I’m talking to you, guy-who-calls-shotgun-in-the-living-room-two-hours-before-departure.
Tadese Tola... running somewhere
The latest non-steroid/doping circumstance of poor sportsmanship took place at the Peachtree Road Race — an event I’ve probably placed too much emphasis on in the past month. My bad — just a little displacement anxiety.
It seems Tadese Tola is disputing claims that he deliberately elbowed Boaz Cheboiywo in a battle for fourth place. This occurred, where else, but 30 meters from the finish, making Tola ineligible for the $2,500 prize.
Throwing bows is an important part of every team sport. I can think of one suffering-in-solitude sport that unofficially promotes the rough stuff: Nascar. “Rubbing is racing,” as the Days of Thunder expression goes. Hmmm…
Maybe what running needs — to reduce some of the ridiculous registration numbers we see at races like the Boston Marathon — is some full contact action. Perhaps it’s not more miles or better times we need; the answer could be some old-fashioned body checking.
Running in helmets doesn’t sound so great, though.
I’m constantly fighting a deep-rooted propensity for melancholy music. It’s easy to forget the importance of starting the day with something upbeat… or funny even. This song meets both of these qualifications. Don’t let the reaction shots of Minnie Driver and company steal anything from the glory that is… Mr. Tang’s song.
Running in the sun can do a number on your face. No one wants Indiana-Jones-jacket skin. If genetics dealt you the dermis of a ginger — like it did me — your sunshine woes can be ten-fold. For the fair-complected, five years of daily exposure can leave a 30-year-old looking like a septuagenarian.
Here’s a simple solution to keep the rays off your mug — in addition to copious sunscreen application of course: Wear a hat. Easy-peasy. If you’re worried about the heat, try a visor. Your skull should be able to breath. Visors are typically lightweight, and after a minute or two, you won’t even notice them.
You take the squint-wrinkle factor out of the equation, and you’re golden. Not your skin. It’s actually more beige… or pink even. Unless you’re naturally brown. In which case, you’re probably still brown.
I’ve even considered rocking one of those 80s Panama Jack safari jobs with the tails in the back to keep my neck in check.
Running Warehouse has a few stylish lids that should be to your liking.
I’m typing this on tiny little keys in the back seat of my car next to my napping 2-year-old. Starting to feel a bit queasy.
Impossibly small digital devices like the one in my hands seem better suited for wee abstract thinkers like the rats of Nimh. Forgive the typos — no spell check.
Anyway, I’ll be rolling into Atlanta momentarily. I’m actually looking forward to what is now called called a “10-degree heat index” in polite conversation.
Calling it humidity went out with words like “fireman.”
Just click the iTunes icon on your desktop, and take a gander at the top audio books. The Art of War is way up there… every week. And it’s been there for over a year now. Call it a sign of the times — a direct response to widespread layoffs and general financial turmoil. I will not use the words “economy” or “recession” as I’m sure you find them as cringe worthy as I do. 
I’ve been a loyal Netflix member for a few years now; and I love to find those friendly, red envelopes hiding amongst the penny-saver coupon catalogs and credit-card offers in my mailbox, but the $17 I pay a month for the service seems increasingly out-of-sync with the entertainment value the once-revolutionary company offers. 
Here’s a simple solution to keep the rays off your mug — in addition to copious sunscreen application of course: Wear a hat. Easy-peasy. If you’re worried about the heat, try a visor. Your skull should be able to breath. Visors are typically lightweight, and after a minute or two, you won’t even notice them. 