Posts tagged varsity sports

i’ve been meaning to write for a while about routine.  i’ve written around it.  i’ve written about the grind. the early mornings.  the rest and recovery. but i haven’t really written about this concept of routine that distance runners seem to hold very tightly.  

if you are reading this as a runner you will undoubtedly know what i’m talking about. but if you are just reading this, let me explain.  as a group, we distance runner’s seem to be exceptionally proud of our mundanity.  we love our staple foods (bananas, oatmeal, nuts, peanut butter, bagels, pasta), we love our bedtimes, we love our splits, our mileage cycles, our watches.  at times it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to say that lots of us seem to be in an intense, if not secret, competition to try and be the most boring person we can be.  

now, to be fair, not all of us are like that and even if we are it might be out of necessity.  (shit man, early mornings come quick when you’ve been moshing at a concert the night before!). BUT a lot of us are.  especially the immature ones.  

a lot of us grasp to our routines with white knuckles.  part fearing what would happen if we pushed our bedtimes back an hour. part loving the consistencies of our regimented life.  at times, i’ve felt that to be great i had to make as many rules as possible and follow them closely.  almost like splits.  7am wake up. 7.30 run. 8.30 class. 9.30 rest. 10.30 class ect. ect. ect. and it took me a while to realize that that just ain’t me. despite the popular notion of the disciplined routine oriented mileage whore to me there is more to being a good, dedicated and disciplined runner.  flexibility. adaptability. spontaneity.  key ingredients to throw into the routine once and a while 

this is the time of year when the eastern light comes later in the morning and disappears earlier into the west.  this is the time of year when we are lean with hunger. hundreds and hundreds of miles only to travel deeper into the mines. 

it’s been dark for months.  we’ve been in the salt mines putting in work.  the hours have been long and we have given much but the pay is high and we are saving our earnings. every morning upon waking we roll over and rub our eyes.  they are heavy with sleep and our bodies are stiff with the work of yesterday.  we rise before dawn and trudge with slow steps back into the mines.  i’ve heard it said that men surrender to early mornings with their breath. but in our hearts there is no surrender. seeing our breath hang in these late october mornings, we are reminded that there is life above ground. out of the mines.  but still, we love our work.  there are no complaints. the foreman is happy. 

every day a little more light breaks into the shafts where we work and i heard someone say yesterday that they saw a glint of gold among this stone. 

the funny thing about tumblr is you never know how many people are reading your blog…so who knows if this question will be answered but imma ask it anyways.  

What do you think athlete’s contribute to society? 

I’ve already got my answer but what’s yours? 

this is a familiar time of year. a familiar energy. the familiar whispers of winter. a small flame ignites and spreads slowly to all the crowns of all the Maples. their embers drop and lay on the ground.  we run on fire. a perennial rite of passage. blisters on our feet. our mouths craving salt. our bodies rest. we run on that fire. we run on through that smoke so we may carry our own small flames.

embrace your trembling hands and your short breaths. 

there are birds fighting in your brain. let them chatter on. let them fly their circles. let them dive. 

listen to the voice that you have tried so hard to ignore.  convulse. vomit. scream. become your shadow. 

breathe, smile, step to the gun, and burn.

suddenly it was dark.
dark and electric, not dark and oppressive.
important difference.  

it was more like the atmosphere was leaner. not so heavy, but agressive.
the wind cracking the old trees while the young ones bent in resistance.

we continued. disregarding what the thunder said.
“yeehaw!”
the breeze was cool and refreshing -
dry water on the back of my neck,
the faraway smell of rain.

“damn, that was some pathetic fallacy out there.”
“fucking Shakespearean.”

the motto for the month is miles. the motto for the month is miles. the motto for the month is miles. the motto for the miles is month. the month for the motto is miles.  the miles for the month is motto. the motto for the is month miles. is for the motto the month miles. miles for the motto month is. 

I am coming to love these long days.  I have always felt that the discipline of training is spiritual - ascetic.  creative in the most physical sense - and at no time does that feel more true then the fading afternoons and early evenings of sunburnt august.

that particular toxin which induces the shallow breaths and the heavy legs of exhaustion.

the sweet sigh of sleep.

it’s damn hard but i approach these miles with no fear.

sans peur.