Last night my friend Brian and I ran 16 miles. We started at the top of South Fork Canyon and ran back to my house.
I like running with Brian because his gait throws off an echo–it always sounds as if there are two of him running. I like to think it is his shadow or his guardian angel alongside for the run. The first time I heard this, I thought another runner had come up behind us and was waiting for me to get over. So I pulled over to the side of the path to let him run by. (It’s a heavy-footed runner and so it is a him.) I then turned my head over my shoulder to see who the runner was but there was no one there. That is how I was introduced to his running shadow.
Over the many training runs we’ve done together, I’ve learned that he runs in different places. If Brian and I are running side by side, sometimes he’s right in front of us, playing the role of protector. Sometimes, he runs at the back of our heels, our rereward. This year, since I’ve been struggling with speed because of my operation two months ago, Brian often is running faster than I am and runs in front of me. When Brian is in front, his shadow runs between us or to my side.
It’s a sound I’ve become accustomed to and have grown quite fond of.
Speaking of sounds, when I couldn’t run because of my illness and then because of having to recover from the operation, I longed to get out and run without listening to my digital mp3 player. So for the past month, that is what I’ve been doing, running music free so that I could get back in touch with the sounds of running in nature.
Along this path I frequent, there is a river. Last month, it was swollen and fast. This month, it is lean and meek. It used to have the sound of roaring lions; now it’s a serene folk song sung sometimes by a tenor, other times by baritone.
Other than the river, the campgrounds have the sound of picnics and campers, children scampering about. Skateboarders and bikers rush by, leaving the sound "shoosh" or "zeezzz" ringing in the ears. And the wind carries noises out of the trees, down off the rock cliffs, off the mist of Bridal Veil falls, and down from the canyon benches. Nature is alive–portals in the air seem to open and close, trees are caught speaking with their limbs and leaves, the wind sucks and howls, and the sound of rocks falling and sliding give the impression of the earth opening one of its many doors to the underground.
Last night was the first night I took my mp3 player. Because this was the first 16 miler of the summer, I needed music that would help my mind not think about the aches and pains in my legs. After 5 miles into the run, after I got to listen to Brian’s shadow and the sounds of nature going on about me, I put on my headphones and turned on the music. By mile 12, I was very glad to have the music.
What did I listen to?
I started off with five or so selections of Madonna’s Ray of Light, followed by a few songs from U2's latest and greatest CD How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. Next on the player was a few songs from Harem, by Sarah Brightman. I ended off listening to one of my favorite CD’s of all time, The Lion and the Cobra, by Sinead O’Conner. In fact, one of the songs I had put on the MP3 player was so fitting and prescient to what’s happening in the world that I kept hitting replay. The song is "Drink Before the War."
Here are the lyrics for your preview:
Well, you tell us that we're wrong
And you tell us not to sing our song
Nothing we can say will make you see
You got a heart of stone
You can never feel
You say "oh I'm not afraid - it can't happen to me
I've lived my life as a good man
Oh, no you're out of your mind
It won't happen to me
Cos I've carried my weight
And I've been a strong man"
Listen to the man in the liquor store
Yelling "anybody want a drink before the war?"
And your parents paid you through
You got a nice big car
Nothing bothers you
Somebody cut out your eyes
You refuse to see
Somebody cut out your heart
You refuse to feel
And you live in a shell
You create your own hell
You live in the past
And talk about war
And you dig your own grave yeah
But it's a life you can save
So stop getting fussed
It's not gonna happen
And you'll cry
But you'll never fall
No, no, no
You're building a wall
Gotta break it down
Start again
No, no, no It won't happen to us
We've lived our lives
Basically we've been good men
So stop talking of war
Cause you know we've heard it all before
Why don't you go out there
And do something useful
Oh listen to the man in the liquor store
He yelling "anybody wanna drink before the war?"
"Anybody wanna drink before the war?"
"Anybody wanna drink before the war?"
WE ended quite strong. We didn't have to walk. And yes, we're still quite far from marathon pace and miles; we commented whether or not we'll ever get there. Let's just keep at it; take each training run as they come.
P.S. Thanks for the run Brian!
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