Sunday, November 6, 2011

A perfectly beautiful day...

Yes friends, it's a perfectly beautiful day for a run. Steel grey skies, foreboding and whisperings of colder weather sure to come. Faint glimmerings of sunlight poking through weakly and with no warmth other than the memories of sun.  The sun, like impossibly gorgeous blobs of colour on canvas... a grey canvas, sad and yet hopeful, the blobs, yellow and golden on a sea of grey, they make me smile.  Faint traces of rain, a soft rain the Irish say, a rain from faraway. The meteorologists say confidently -smugly,  it's the perimeter of a Colorado low... as if they can predict, as if they know.  It's a soft rain, the Irish say, and that's all that needs to be said.  And the wind, from the south, or was it the east, the wind too was soft at times, but chilled the bones as we turned around at the Forks.  The wind blows strong here, off the river with little shelter.  Shelter From the Storm, an old Dylan tune from Blood on the Tracks, now looping through my brain, such a lovely song, but I show my age.

We hunch our shoulders, shorten the stride, and forge homeward.  Me in two layers, synthetic base layer and Merino wool outer layer, both light and fitting snug -just the way I like it- and working well together, providing wicking and warmth from the wet.  Beads of rain gather on the brim of my cap and roll onto my face like tears. My chest now lightly drenched ... can something be lightly drenched or is that an oxymoron?  It's my blog so I take artistic license and I say lightly drenched stays.

Thinking of music as I run.  Wilco's new album, The Whole Love, has been getting lots of play time lately... so many amazing tracks, Black Moon is haunting and tugs dearly at my soul or One Sunday Morning... so beautiful, like the grey skies of today's run with blobs of colours and textures, tender and harsh like the soft sun against the steel sky.  Music is like that, it takes us away and soothes the brain... sorta like a good run.  A good run does that and more. Yes?

I have decided to register for Fargo Marathon.  I've registered twice before and had to pull out both times due to injuries.  Last year a mere 5 days before race day I twisted an ankle.  Two years before I strained my calf about a week before race day. I need to slay Fargo.  This is the year.  I also need to slay Chicago, but that's another story.

And finally, a word about Ted's Run.  Every day is a good day for a run, some are just better than others. Such was the day for Ted's Run.  Big blue, blue sky, warm sun, cool tunes, smiles everywhere.  Ted was in the sky and he smiled openly and his love radiated warmly.  It was vibrant and it was Kodachrome.

Early in the morning before the crowds arrived walking next to her in dawn's light she stopped and tried to articulate what this day means ... to her ... to Ted.  The words choked and failed as they often do.  Silence was appropriate so, in silence we held one another and it was good and it was right. I thought of the last time I saw Ted.  He was running, not fast for speed was irrelevant to Ted, he was strong, smiling, proud.  It was a good day to be alive then as it is a good day to be alive now.  Ted's is gone but -my oh my- how his spirit continues to motivate.

If you're reading this, I suspect you either attended the run, volunteered at the run, or otherwise supported the run through your good cheer and your good vibes.  I am indebted to your kindness.  I am grateful for your suport.  I am a better person for knowing you.

To all of you, it's a good day to be alive.

Mike









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