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#1
10-05-2005, 08:55 PM
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Quantum Ultramarathoning or Shroedingers Scylla
I'm signed up to run the JFK 50 mile race this November 19th. I've run a bunch of marathons and I'm pretty much physically done at the end of them. This is almost twice as far.
It's a pointless exercise, really. There's no real reason to run 50 miles other than to run 50 miles. I made this pointless decision about 7 months ago, when a lot of things were happening in my life that were scary and unpleasant and uncertain. I think this is my way of asserting control. I will make meaningless commitments, and follow through on them. By doing something meaningless, not particularly smart and very difficult I will somehow assert dominance and control over my life. By doing so, in this one aspect, it will overflow and I will once again be in control. In order to run this race, I have been taking extremely long training runs. I will wake up at 4am or 4:30, drive to the rails to trails (for example,) put on my ipod and my Camelback and disapear into the woods for 3,4,5 hours covering 15, 20, or 30 miles by myself. It's amazing the gamut of things that go through your head as you go from drowsiness to exilhiration, to exhaustion, to despair, to a grim resolve, to a failure of resolve, and finally to simply being, beyond effort, beyond exhaustion, apathetic to suffering. There is beauty and there is ugliness and they are often intertwined. While not paying attention I slipped on a dead possom. He had been dead for a while and he liquefied inside and burst when I stepped on him and I slid and fell on my back. It stunk horribly and hurt, and I lay there on my back with a coating of dead possum slime on my legs, ass and back, staring up at the sky, heart pounding, covered with sweat. Furious with frustration there were tears in my eyes, but it was also funny, and I realized what a beautiful and rare moment this was. "Most people are never privileged enough to lay on their back at 6am in the middle of a deserted trail, having run fifteen miles, covered with dead possom, while contemplating their place in the world and staring as dawns rosy tendrils (as Homer puts it) color the first light," I think. Lucky me. I mean it. Other things happen to, as you go out there into nature, into miles and resolve, before the rest of the world wakes. Exhaustion and effort break down barriers and the solitude and suffering of exertion turn the mind inward and outward and reality shifts. Sometimes your ipod stops playing music and starts talking to you. I've read enough psychology to know that the voices in your head aren't necessarily on your side, but it's interesting. Sometimes you meet people, that aren't there in consensus reality. You are free to meet them because at 6 am after twenty miles or so, in the deep woods.... you are far away from consensus reality. It is pointless but therein lies its strength. Some people beleive that you are what you do when it matters. They spend there life waiting for something that matters, or they search it out. Sometimes they meet up with it. It's a moot point. As far as I can tell, everybody does their best when it really matters, when it's life or death or the stakes are sufficiently high. The true test of character, I think, is what you do when it matters not at all. There is no need. Only character fills the void. And, I eat a lot of bugs, too. The fall has these tiny little gnats that swarm. They are so fragile and tiny that just running through them kills them. I'm only running 8 minute miles yet the collision leaves them dead on my face or on my arms. Sometimes you inhale them and they taste bitter. I know reality shifts. Last June I bought (or thought I bought) a new Mustang Convertible. It seemed like a sweet car, but right away it had all these issues. The interior was cheap, it had issues with gas. It made weird noises. It shifted badly. The computer busted. It was in the shop 5 times this summer. While running for several hours my mind turned to this car, and I thought about what a mistake it was. I had had the opportunity to buy this nice used Subaru from a guy who was into tuning. It was a very nice Impreza WRX wagon with all kinds of new features and aftermarket parts to zip it up, but it still looked stock. I lamented not buying it. When I came back from my run, the Mustang was gone from the parking lot, and there was the Subaru. It was like that Ashton Kutcher movie where he travels through time and changes things. Suddenly I had all the memories. I had passed on the Mustang. I did by the Subaru. Reality had changed. Or maybe it was just the delirium daydream of the physical effort of the run. Does it really matter? So, I'm not sure what is true. I'm not sure what happens on my runs. More importantly I'm sure I'll take poetic license to whatever degree I feel like and simply make things up. You can judge what is true or not. I intend to write about the mystical experiences of my training runs, and what I encounter and how the training goes and I guess it'll all end on November 19th when I run the race. The story really begins in August, though. That is when I got serious about the long runs. That's also when I kept the other part of the promise I made to myself. I was going to ride a bull. I guess this idea came from that stupid song "I went sky diving, mountain rocky climbing, I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu...." Hey, I can do that! That'll be a defining experience. I've been a cowboy at a dude ranch. I've trained horses. I paid my entrance fee, got a tutorial, signed disclaimers and I was entered. The bull's name wasn't "Fu manchu," though. It was "Tibia." "He breaks a lot of Tibia's" I was told. As I stared at Tibia's acres of anatomy, I couldn't help but notice how little it resembled that of a horse. The night before I had cut quite a figure in my worn jeans, chaps, denim shirt, and frayed straw cowbody hat. I exuded confidence and rugged capability. Tibia had not been there, and was not as impressed with me. There were three chutes. They had just loaded Tibia in his chute. Two other bulls and riders were preparing to go, than me. An hour before, in the dressing room I had met Fred. "Hi, I'm Fred," said Fred. "I'll be your clown." Fred had clown makeup and body armor. His wrist was in a cast. "Do whatever I say. Don't try to climb the fence if the bull is focussed on you. Once you fall off keep moving. Don't freeze." Fred patted me on the back. Fred's face didn't look like clown makeup. It looked like Mime make up. I didn't like Mimes. They kind of scared me. Clowns too, but Mimes moreso. Standing there by Tibia I had a bad feeling. "I went sky-diving....." I started singing to myself and kind of stopped. I mount Tibia and he doesn't seem to notice or care. I am handed a rope that goes around the bull and pisses him off, but which I will hang onto. It is supposed to be nice and tight. I keep remembering those guys that get stuck on the bull, and make it kind of loose. I'm being given all kinds of instructions that I can't seem to listen to. I'm in shock. I'm in shock that I'm actually being allowed to do this. I have no clue. I have received virtually no instruction. All I had to do was pay my fee and talk to a clown. Unreal. The second bull goes. The guy falls off with a liquid crunch, tries to run, but the bull beats him up for a while before the clown gets him out of there. Now it's my turn. I'm supposed to say "OK, Ok" "Ok Ok" as my signal to release the bull. What comes out is "Bo bo, bobalo" or something. The gate opens and the bull leaps out. My eyes catch those of my friends (Family stayed home) here to support me. Things happen. These things involve physics and momentum and I'm not to clear on them. I eat dirt. I get up and the bull runs me over again, or punts me or something. I'm not to clear on it. This clown is there and he screws with bull and pisses it off. I climb over a fence and at the top of the fence there are ten sets of hands to lift me over, to grab me, to hold me. They are all my brothers and they pull me to safety and it is incredible sensation, like being loved. They stand me up and look at me. "You ok?" A thousand times it is asked. I nod dumbly, and then I suddenly grin, and they all grin back. I am ok! I spit blood from a split lip. My nose is bleeding. I'm ok. It's a beautiful moment. Singular. It's like staring at dawns rosy tendrils while laying on my back on a trail covered in dead possum. 
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#2
10-05-2005, 09:34 PM
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#4
10-05-2005, 09:51 PM
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I read this OP and now my head hurts.
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#7
10-06-2005, 05:16 AM
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So how long did you stay on?
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#9
10-06-2005, 08:33 AM
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I did that race a long time ago, when I was 17, and it was hell. I was next to last to finish and I think I walked the last 51 miles. But I did finish.
Do you have a time you think you'll finish in? I ask because my father runs this race almost every year, I think he's finished 20 times or so so I'll be there to help him out plus some of the other people he'll be running with. If you want any tips or anything for your driver let me know since I know the route like the back of my hand. You'll have to let me know what number you'll be so I can be on the lookout for you and take bad pictures of you for posterity. Maybe I'll get some signs like "Hi Opal", or "Penis Ensued" so you know who I am. 
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#10
10-06-2005, 09:21 AM
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Regards, Shodan
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#11
10-06-2005, 09:55 AM
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Okay, I read it again and this time my head doesn't hurt so much. Good luck on the Run. Please watch out for dead animals, sounds extremely nasty. Has anyone ever suggested you are an endorphin junky? Not that this is a bad thing, I was just wondering.
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#12
10-06-2005, 10:05 AM
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#14
10-06-2005, 06:20 PM
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Thank you. I can assure you that choosing the possum would be a mistake. Getting run over by a bull isn't pleasant, but.... Once it's over, that's it. It's done. A coating of fermenting possum lingers and lingers and lingers and lingers. Also, getting run over by a bull is a good way to win friends and impress people. "What happened to you?" "I got run over by a bull." "Oh my God, how's that happen?" You get to tell the story over and over again to crowds of people who find you daring and interesting. The Possum on the other hand goes like this: "What happened to you?" "I laid down in dead possom." "Well get outta here then, you stinky creep." Usually after my long runs, I go to the Waffle House for a pecan waffle and a cup of coffee. After the Possum incident I was not welcome at Waffle House. Can you imagine being asked to leave Waffle House?
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#15
10-06-2005, 06:25 PM
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The Rennaissance. Quote:
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I'm guessing between 9-10 hours
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#16
10-06-2005, 06:32 PM
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Hi Scylla. I'm new here, and this post is my introduction to you. Marry me.
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#17
10-06-2005, 06:44 PM
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I know, you're probably married, ya-da ya-da. It's just that brilliance renders me stupid. Amazing writing, full of heart, and I can't wait to read more in the future. I'd definitely buy a book.
You can all blame me if SDMB crashes, I'm off to search for Scylla's threads (wow, 10K posts!).
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#18
10-07-2005, 08:50 AM
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I've thought about trying to do the run again, then I come to my senses and wonder where that stupid thought came from.
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#19
10-07-2005, 09:06 AM
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I envy you. I'd love to read The Horror of Blimps again for the first time.
__________________
Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats. Henry Louis Mencken (1880-1956)
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#20
10-07-2005, 09:13 AM
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Ok, having thought it over and based on your personal experience Scylla, I guess I'll take being run over by a bull over layin' in dead possum.
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#22
10-08-2005, 07:08 PM
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I did my first actual running race this summer.
It was a half marathon to the top of Pikes Peak (14,110 feet above sea level). Reading your post was great. You express exactly how I felt during many of my training runs. There's something great about the delerium you experience when running at high altitudes. You know you hurt... Or at least you think you shoould by now, but the hypoxia has kicked into full effect and little things take on great meaning and/or hilarity, such as your possum incident. I was fortunate enough to not have fallen into a fermenting animal, but sometimes dealing with the throngs of tourists at the top of a mountain after you've run 13.32 miles to get there will leave you feeling the same sort of disgust.
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#23
10-19-2005, 08:14 PM
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Edward the Head
I'll be sure and email you my number before the race. Fairychatmom [quote]How long did you stay on?[/b] Sorry, I missed this question. I don't know. Not long. I did not get a time because I was disqualified. The only hand that may be in contact with the bull is the one holding the rope. I knew this rule, but in extemis, I touched the bull in an attempt not to do an immediate faceplant out of the chute. I would guess I was on the bull for less than two seconds. Brightpenny and Scout I don't think you girls would want me after the bullride.
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#24
10-19-2005, 09:23 PM
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Why run?
Earlier I said it all started with the bullride, but in fact it starts earlier than that. I started making radical decisions last March when circumstances conspired to leave me mentally constipated.
It turns out that my father who thought was just being a jerk had a biological cause for his behavior over the last ten years. He had brain surgery and confessed to me that the IRS was after him for failure to file and pay for more than ten years, and that he had failed to take care of his mother properly, and when she died he had abandoned the estate and the state had seized property for back taxes and the IRS was after him for that, too. He didn't trust himself and wanted me to take over everything fix it, and keep him out of jail and solvent if possible. My daughter almost died, and I had a mysterious figure from my past that I never dealt with properly emerge and cause me disquiet. I did not handle any of these things well at first. To make a long story short, I was severely stressed, confused, and angst-ridden guy. So, I shaved my head, signed up for a bullride and a fifty mile run. That doesn't seem like a logical progression, but trust me, it made sense to me at the time. Easter morning, 2005: I get up and go for a run. My plan is to run through a state park trail and intersect with the Appalachian trail and do maybe ten to twelve miles. I get up early and drive. It is a fine chilly morning, and as I run I turn these various conundrums around in my mind for an hour or so. Then, I decide to turn around and run back. I shortly realize that in my self-absorbtion I have somehow never gotten on the Appalachian trail. In fact, I am not on any trail. It is foggy and cold in the woods and I am soaked with sweat. I pause to get my bearings and realize just how cold and wet I am. I am tired and my knee hurts. At this moment in time I have an epiphany. "You could die now." That sounds dramatic and hyperbolous, but that wasn't the way it felt. It felt matter of fact, and calm and was based on factual information. 1. You are eight miles deep into the woods and you have only the most general and possibly fallacious idea as to your bearings. 2. It is cold and wet and you are wearing shorts and a cotton shirt. Rangers refer to cotton shirts as "death cloth," because they retain no heat when wet. The shirt is wet, you feel cold and it is probably between 40-50 degrees out here. If you stop running you will probably get hypothermia with astonishing rapidity. 3. Too foggy to see the sun. 4. You are tired distracted and careless. 5. All anybody knows is that you went out for a run. Nobody will look for you here for quite some time. If you are lost it will be many hours before your wife reports the incident. Hours later the car will be found. Hours later a search can commence. If you are lost it will only be by a great big stroke of luck that you do not have to spend the night in the woods, and if you do, you coud die of exposure. But none of this has happened yet. Just then, I am running in the woods, looking to regain my bearings. The other part of my mind reminds me that getting yourself killed these days usually involves a long chain of carelessness and stupidity, and I well down that path. While not in trouble just now, I was probably just one or two mistakes away from serious problems, and I had better get serious. I decided to keep running in the direction I felt I had come from and see if the path reappeared. So I ran some, and I toyed with the idea of what I would do if the path didn't reappear. It would certainly be a dramatic time to die. And, I thought some more. I've gone hiking and running a lot in this area and studied maps of it looking for good routes. It is criscrossed with trails. Further, as long as I keep trending downhill, away from Big Flat and the Appalachian trail, I can't fail to hit a road in about five miles. So, on second thought, I'm not really in any danger. Unless I just stop and lay down. Do you ever wonder why hermits are generally considered mad? Have you ever spent time, even a few hours by yourself deep in the woods? It's strange how quickly things get weird. You don't feel alone. How can you? You're surrounded by life. It's easy to feel creepy, like your being watched. Completely away from people or signs of any humanity but yourself, you lose your baseline almost immediately. I do these runs and sometimes I'm convinced all my life has been a dream and there is nothing but woods and I am deluding myself to think that there is anything else. People do stupid things in the woods when they're by themselves. So, I laid down for just a minute to see what it would be like to be in trouble. I could fill my shirt with leaves to stay warm. I try that, and guess what? It works? So, I get up and I run with a shirt full of leaves even though I'm not cold enough to need them yet. To keep the leaves in I tuck my shirt into my shorts. Pretty soon I am cold and my shorts are full of leaves. "Thank God for Bodyglide," I think. Bodyglide is proof to me that the human race is worthwhile. Bodyglide is a product that actually works. It works better than advertised. It is, in fact, magic. Bodyglide is a magical invisible substance in the form of a white deodorant type stick. It contains oils and waxes and essences, the end result of which it is impossible to chafe wherever you apply it. It works forever (or until you shower and scrub it off with soap.) It is a long distance runner's dream. It is also a miracle for crotches. If you run your crotch sweats and gets all stinky and sweaty and itchy and then it chafes and then it becomes raw and then things can get really ugly. Really really ugly. If you ever got junglerot from sweaty underwear you know whereof I speak just multiply it by ten for a long distance runner. Bodyglide keeps you dry warm, odor and sweat-free, eliminates chafing, the whole nine yards. So, when I run I cover my entire crotch area with bodyglide. This is why you never want to borrow somebody else's Bodyglide, by the way. I remove the leaves and am still remarkably comfortable and itch free, though I have tons of stems and detritus in my shorts. And warm. Y'know, if I had Bodyglide right now, if I carried it with me, I bet I could rub the stick over my whole body and it would have an insulating effect! I keep running, since I don't have my Bodyglide with me. *** "Why do I run?" I get asked this question from time to time. The pat answer is "I can eat whatever I want and it keeps me in shape." This is an eminently sensible answer and everyone is always satisfied with it. It just happens to be a lie. The truth is that I run because stripping the water bed to the plastic cover, getting naked, covering mself with baby oil and sliding back and forth on the waterbed just doesn't help. If you've ever tried that, or something similar to deal with worms-in-the-brain, I'd recommend running as an alternative. Running beats oiling the water bed as a way for dealing with the stress and crap that we put ourselves through. It works better than alcoholism (though I haven't tried that, I have it on athority.) It works better than being mean to other people and closing out and hurting the ones you love. It works better than despair. It works better than turning your soul off and being dead inside (I know this from personal experience.) Funny. I felt like I hadn't really been alive for a while. It took the birth of my daughter six years ago, to fill me to the point where I really wanted things, where I really cared, and it was good to be alive. Do we all just go dead and live our lives without feeling for periods of time, or is it just me? Conversely how many people just go through their lives, dead inside, or like animals..... not really caring, not really happy, not really sad, just.... not giving a shit. Anyway, I felt alive and fulfilled again. The problem is all the angst that carries. Hence, the running. And, it worked too. If it was working why I was running lost through the woods fantasizing about coating myself in Bodyglide with my underwear full of leaves? What are these thoughts in my head? Will I die in the woods, or will I find the path? I think of a line from Robert Frost "These woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep." As I'm thinking all these pseudo-deep and melodramatic thoughts I realize that I know exactly where I am. I've enjoyed my escapist little surreal self-indulgent pity run. I go back to the car, and take the family on an Easter egg hunt. All is well for about six months until I'm out on a run and Kooter, my imaginary childhood friend shows up on his motorcycle. But, that's for another day.
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#25
10-19-2005, 09:41 PM
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#26
10-19-2005, 11:10 PM
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Mmmmmm. *ponders all this for awhile*
You know...I think there's something to what you say about the urge to run when things become overwhelming. Flight is instinctual, given the circumstances. While I can pretty safely say I'll never become a runner, I can agree that when I become boxed in by life's options, when I feel like I've given everything 10,000% and still it's not enough to fix stuff, and I hit the proverbial wall at long last...I have incredibly vivid dreams, day and night, of running. Me in my non-runner's form just feeling my feet to the ground and the sense of the world passing alongside, impossibly fast. No technology, just me and the earth and the air. Both grounded and lifted at once. You're a good man for recognizing what the alternatives might do to you and the ones you love, and for doing something about it.
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#27
10-23-2005, 05:11 PM
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I am now seriously considering taking up long-distance running. If it works for Scylla --
But I doubt I'll ever ride a bull.
__________________
The difference between those who make it and those who don't is -- well, they make it. The rest don't try. Anything wanted badly enough is achievable.
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#28
10-23-2005, 05:47 PM
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#29
10-24-2005, 07:38 AM
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Daaaaamn. That is some crazy shit, Scylla. Just goes to show you the human mind is a fragile thing indeed.
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#30
10-26-2005, 07:46 PM
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Harborwolf:
The ladies may indeed dig signs of battle, but you're missing the point, after riding the bull, you're in no shape to dig the ladies. If you still don't get understand, try this: Take two oranges and put them in a bag. Now slam the bag repeatedly against the ground several times. Now examine the oranges. Are you beginning to understand?
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#31
10-26-2005, 08:08 PM
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Ouch! Mine hurt, and I don't even have 'em...
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#32
10-26-2005, 09:53 PM
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I'm running the Marine Corps Marathon this weekend as a.... heh, "training run" for the Fity Miler with a buddy of mine.
With 30,000 people, the crowds, the shoulder to shoulder runners it's quite a different gig than the early morning solo runs in the deep woods through darkness and dawn. On one such run in September, I was planning on running 26 miles, 13 up and 13 back. I was on the rails for trails in the empty woods and farmland between Shippensburg and Newburg when a motorcycle pulled up silently beside me. I knew exactly who it was instantly because I only knew one person that had a Harley Davidson with a true stealth mode on it. The fact that that person didn't exist hardly mattered since there he was. If you can run far enough, hard enough into those woods past Shippensburg, it seems you can also run past... or through... consensus reality. "Hi Kooter," I said. I hadn't seen him in about 33 years, or so, but like with all true old friends nothing much had changed. "Hey," said Kooter from his stealth hog. Kooter was about my size, six feet. He had long flowing blond hair, and strong masculine features. He wore Keds, faded Levis, a white Tshirt, and a brown leather vest. He was tanned, lean and muscular. The most startling feature about Kooter though, was his smile. It was the kindest smile you'd ever seen on a human being, warm and full of love. You would see that smile and instantly know that you were dealing with the gentlest, most sincerely good person you had ever met in your life. He gave me that smile, and it wasn't at all incongruous with the fact that Kooter was also a real badass. Being my imaginary childhood friend, Kooter and I didn't need to say much to catch up. I ran down the path and he rode beside me, silently, grinning, and let me look at him. First though, I only had eyes for the bike. It was the archetypal Immaculately Maintained Machine, all black and gleaming chrome. a lot of the upgrades Kooter had done himself. Besides the stealth mode, it could also turn invisible, and, if I recalled correctly, it could also fly. It had been 33 years or so since I'd seen Kooter and might not have recalled whether he'd installed the flying upgrade or was still considering it. I began to feel slightly uneasy as my eyes moved from the cycle to Kooter, and not just in the way you normally would when your imaginary friend comes calling. Kooter hadn't aged a bit, but he had changed. Down the inside of his right arm was a long wicked wound about 6 inches long. On my arm, in that place, is a keloid scar that looks like a large worm or a small snake has burrowed under the skin. In fact, he was covered in minor, and not so minor wounds mirroring my own. His looked a bit fresher. I wondered about the ones you couldn't see, like the knee and the rotator cuff. He smiled affirmatively, reading my mind. Though it all looked like it happened yesterday, none of it seemed to bother him or detract from his charisma. "You're me," I said, getting it. "You are like the... ummm... best that I could ever be! You're me, as the expression of my ultimate!" I was pleased for having caught on, and, it might be a bit narcissistic, but Damn! He was a good looking charismatic fellow. "Nope," he said, bursting my bubble "just what you hoped and wanted to be." "Ahhhhh," As my imaginary friend, Kooter rode around doing good deeds, helping people and having adventures. This was how I explained his lack of presence to everybody else. He had just left on an adventure, or was on his way. It was all quite trite and banal and childish, but I didn't mind him being here as I still had ten miles or so to go, and was tired and bored. But I still didn't get it. "No. You didn't make me up. I'm real," he said. And just like that I remembered. I didn't remember in the way adults remember, but in the way it happened, as a child. We were at a lake. I was lost, but not yet scared. Maybe three, or four. Their was a dock with people on it, and I wasn't far from where my parents were picinicking with their friends. I would find my way back in a moment, but I wanted to walk down the dock which had some shops on it, and boats. At some point there was a man, and in the way of many children I knew there was something wrong with this man and his nervous attention to me. I remember feeling the sensation of being scared, as he tried to make me go with him. I didn't remember the man, or the actual events, but I remembered the feelings, the knowing that this man was the stranger I had been warned about when I was told not to talk with strangers or go anywhere with strangers. This is what they were afraid of. He was here. He was focussed on me and I was too scared to object. There was a car. It had a red interior and the man was trying to get me to go into it. I wasn't struggling or resisting.... but still, magically, someone noticed, saw something wrong. "Hey!!" was shouted, the bad man left me and drove away quickly, and I was carried back to my parents by the "Hey!!" shouter. He had long hair, and was wearing Keds, faded jeans, and a Tshirt. As he carried me, all the anxiety was gone. I knew I was being carried by a good man. Just like that. "You invented the leather vest," Kooter added, "but I like it." "I don't think that actually happened," I said. "I think I just made that up right now. That's just too cute. How would that guy know anything was wrong? Why would he do something about it? Most people just stand around in ambiguous situations. They don't act for fear of looking stupid." "Most people," agreed Kooter amicably. "Not everybody though. Besides, I knew who you were and I knew that guy wasn't your father." "How did you know that?" "Because I was at the picnic. I was your father's friend from the Marines. We had all been looking for you, though you were only gone a minute." "So you're saying that I based on you on a real person," I asked? "Well yeah, Kind of like a Lifetime movie. "Mother may I sleep with danger" or "Betrayal of Trust: The Kimberly Williams story." I grinned, and Kooter grinned back. "Well, Kooter" I said. "It's good to see you, again. I missed you, but I have to admit this is going on rather too long and is a bit more involved then the typical long distance running hallucination/fantasy. So what's going on?" Kooter grinned, like I was supposed to get it. "Ok. You have returned because I had heat stroke and am passed out on the side of the trail, and you are going to give me instructions that will save my life." "That's pretty cheesy," said Kooter. "You have some urgent message from my subconscious?" "Nope." "Let me guess. I'm about to step into a road and get hit by a truck and your presence here is to guide me into the next life?" "Ugggh," said Kooter. "Have you thought that maybe I just wanted to say hi?" "Nyaahhh, I know you. You have something to do or say." "So what is it?" "You're going to say something cryptic and prophetic, that will foreshadow some kind of event?" "Now you're just reaching, pal." "OK." I ran in silence for a while. "I got it. With all the stuff that's been happening this year I've put myself on some kind of mystical quest, and I'm going to find my spirit animal and be visited by spirits. You're like Marley's ghost." Here Kooter grinned. "Actually, you did meet your spirit animal. Remember that dead possom you stepped on?" "You're kidding me, right?" "Nope, and then you fell on your back and it got all over you...." I was getting pissed. I ran a little faster and interrupted. "That sucks. My spirit animal is a deap possum? That just sucks. I can't beleive this. Everybody in the movies gets some kind of noble beast and you're telling me I get a dead possum?" "He died for you. That's pretty noble," said Kooter defensively. "The Possum died for me? What he's supposed to be some kind of Christ figure?" "You do have a thing for Christ figures. Look at me. I'm bearing all your wounds. It's a common archetype." "But a possom is just a big ugly rat. Why can't I have a cougar for a spirit animal?" "You got a possum, and there's no sense complaining about it," replied Kooter. "In point of fact, most spirit animals are worthless. They don't do anything but symbolize. This possom though (his name was "Fred" by the way,) was determined to help you out. He was very proud to be a spirit animal and very proud to be your spirit animals. Not many possums get to be spirit animals, you know?" "I can't imagine why not," I replied sarcastically. "The Possum is ubiquitously known for it's noble character and fighting spirit. That's why they spend all their time dragging their hairless rat tails from garbage can to garbage can." "You're being an ingrate. Fred was determined to make a great show of being your spirit animal and he died on that particular spot so that you would slip on him, view the dawn sky and have an epiphany about beauty that would serve you well for the rest of your days." "So you're here to remind me of Fred the Possum's epiphany." "No. But since you brought up spirit animals I thought I'd mention that you already got yours." "So why are you here," I asked? "And don't just grin." Kooter grinned. I ran some more. "You're here for my kids!" "You're going to watch out for my kids! You're going to be their imaginary friend! That's it, right?" "NNNOOOOOO" Replied Kooter, "But just to clear the air, I do watch out for your kids, just as I've always watched out for you." "Well, I hope you a do a better job for them than for me, because you haven't helped me or been around for like 30 years." "That's not true," said Kooter. "A man has a dream. In that dream he walks along a beach and he sees two sets of footprints trailing back over his life...." "OH no! God. No. Please!" I cry. Kooter continues on. "The man notices that at all the difficult points in his life there is only one set and asks why he was abandoned when he needed help the most." "And the other guy is Jesus, and Jesus says "Oh no my son. That's when I carried you." Oh come on Kooter! You're not gonna give me that shit. You weren't there. I did it myself. I remember. It was hard. I would have noticed if you were around or I was getting help through the bad parts." "Allright!" says, and I see he's getting pissed. "Enough fooling around. You don't appreciate your spirit. Fine. He was just a stupid fucking possum, even if he was trying to help. I, on the other hand, have been you're noble Knight. Not for you, even though I'm your imaginary friend. You're old enough to take care of yourself. But for your kids. Remember the movies last week when you were with the kids by yourself?" "Yes." I replied, feeling uneasy, like I knew where this was going. "Who do you think gathered up your kids and dragged you to the bench when you passed out cold?" "I didn't pass out. I walked to the bench and made the kids sit with me until I felt better." "No. You passed out. I stood you up and walked you to the bench." "I don't mean to offend you Kooter, and I appreciate any good feelings, but I don't remember it that way. I made it to the bench." "No. You were done. I gave you the extra steps. That's all I, or anybody can do. Give you a little bit extra once in a while. But that's not why I came back, either. I really did just want to say "hi." This seemed like a good time." "Why did I get light-headed and feel like I was gonna pass out?" Kooter shrugged. "Low blood sugar, basal metabolism, psychosomatic, brain tumor, anuerysm, epilepsy, I dunno. Sometimes people just faint. Don't read too much into it." "Oh." "Anyway," said Kooter. "I gotta go." And with that he took his motorcycle off of stealth mode, and it roared with that mettallic clatter of really cool old motorcycles. "You're going to get visited by ghosts and spirits and stuff," he added and roared off in a sound not unlike rattling chains. I finished my run, got in the car and drove home.
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#34
11-04-2005, 11:48 PM
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I'm glad you like it, Schuyler. I sense you might be alone and that my readership has dwindled. That's ok though, I really write more for myself. I'm curious how it turns out.
*** Last week I ran the Marine Corps Marathon with a friend. My friend wasn't particularly prepared and began to suffer at about mile 6. I stayed with him for a while and sensed I wasn't doing him much good. He was holding me back and I was pushing him too hard. There's something unpleasant about watching somebody else suffer, particularly if it's holding you back. Somewhere around ten miles he did what I call "going internal" which is when you just lose touch with everything else around you and enter some kind of trance mode. We ran the half in 2:02:00 and I received his blessing to go ahead. I needed it. I needed to suffer. I needed to push myself hard and see what I had. So, I took off. It was a strange experience, very unlike my training runs. The constant crowds, the people around me, the hard tarmac, it was all completely opposite of my solitary training runs on soft compacted gravel. I felt stuck in the here and now, and unable to really get inside myself so I ran harder. Somewhere around mile 22 or so, I got fatigued and tired enough, the effort was strong enough that I began to get into that running trance state. No hallucinations or daydreams came to me though, and at 3:51:00 I crossed the finish line. It was a good marathon, but a revealing training run. I didn't feel like I still had half my energy like I would need to run the full fifty miles. My legs were sore and I was very fatigued. In another ten miles I would suffer some serious problems. My friend dropped out at mile twenty and we met up at Arlington Cemetary and headed over to the subway station where we saw a man who had a heart attack. He was dressed as a runner and the station was cleared while they carried him out on a stretcher. I didn't know what to make of this other than 30,000 people had run that day. *** For the last several days after the marathon I've felt different. What drove me to sign up for the fifty mile run, are the same circumstances that last fall drove me to shave my head, and ride a bull. Since then, I've resolved some of those things. My father will not be going to jail and it appears that I'll be able to negotiate a settlement with the IRS. I should know for sure by the end of this month. I've let my hair grow back to crewcut level. I know longer feel desperate and full of mad energy. The fear is in me. Part of the pleasure, the challenge of riding the bull was knowing how stupid and unreasonable it was, the meaningless but very real danger I would be facing, and I accomplished it without really being afraid of the consequences. In fact, I welcomed consequences. I wasn't worried about breaking a bone or going to the hospital. Something like that would have been an additional challenge, another experience to feel and to add character. It would have been life, something to strive against. Now though, I feel differently about this fifty mile run. What it boils down to is that fifty miles is really really far. I know I can make 35, and I know enough from my training runs and from this marathon that that's really all I have physically to offer. At mile 35 or so, I will be completely spent. I will have two, three, or four hours to go where I've already used up everything I've had. There is going to be some true suffering. If I finish, I will hurt for a long time afterwards. Before, perhaps with 6 months before it happened, that seemed an oddly attractive prospect. Staring that deep into the abyss suddenly seems scary to me. I'm starting to feel balance and control in my life again, and I'm not sure I need this. I think I'll still do it, simply because I said I would, and because I'd wonder if I didn't. I'm not looking forward to it, though. There's a couple of pictures available online from the marathon I ran. In them I think I look cocky, confident, arrogant and strong. http://www.marathonfoto.com/image_cr...erOffered=true http://www.marathonfoto.com/image_cr...erOffered=true But mostly I feel lost and small and weak and stupid, hence the marathons and the display of arrogance, and the fifty miles. Prove something. *** Then again, there is the big hallucination/fantasy, the ghost Kooter warned me about. You (the hallucination fantasy) showed up about two weeks before the marathon or so, about the time I started this thread. It was an unusually cold Saturday morning, and I was wearing my Underarmor tights on the trail to keep me warm. Underarmor is wonderful stuff, skin tight, jet black, it keeps you warm, and wisks moisture away (I had a learned a lesson from the Easter run). The downside is that I was wearing tights, but at least nobody could see me. So, dressed like Batman, I ran through the woods, and somewhere around 15 miles I saw you. For a long time I just watched wondering if the hallucination/fantasy would crystallize or fade as you hovered in the air before me. Finally we spoke: "I thought your name was Mercy," I said. "No, you thought my name was Lust," came the reply. "Your secret name is Christine," I said. "Your secret soul is Dust." Came the reply. I was running through a cloud of it at the moment, as far from anything as I could be.
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#35
11-05-2005, 12:10 AM
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In case you haven't guessed it, I usually don't run in my dreams. In my dreams I have cryptic conversations with old acquaintances and mysterious personages. I don't run in my dreams, I get that feet-stuck-in-glue dream.
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#36
11-05-2005, 09:22 AM
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I search for your threads regularly, and always look forward to reading more. Please continue to post your writing here. Quote:
__________________
Ceiling Cat pwns all. He pwns teh ceiling and teh floor and walls too.
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#37
11-05-2005, 09:34 AM
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The links to your photos result in this message: The MarathonFoto order pages are generated dynamically and do not work well if accessed from a bookmark. We apologize for any inconvenience.
Maybe you could post them on flickr.com so we can see them?
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#38
11-05-2005, 01:05 PM
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#40
11-06-2005, 07:01 AM
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Lemme get this straight....you have to pay money to run some ungodly distance....physically because you want too?*
The only way you could get me to do that is if I were covered in A1 steak sauce and there were a pack of rabid chihuahua's after me and the promise of $5million in tax free cash, Liposuction/tummy tuck and Brad Pitt covered in chocolate at the finish line. * in the words of my girl friends late father who would holler at the new fad of Jogging - this is the late 70's, " If you have so much energy, paint my garage!" I embrace his curmudgeonness.
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#41
11-06-2005, 07:38 AM
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#42
11-06-2005, 08:26 AM
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Whatever floats your boat, baby!
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#45
11-18-2005, 08:26 PM
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#48
11-19-2005, 12:01 PM
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I've thought of you and your challenge several times this week, each time sending good luck vibes your way. I look forward to hearing about it soon.
May all your spirit companions be helpful ones...
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#50
11-20-2005, 09:26 AM
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Ow. Just "Ow."
9 hours 45 minutes and change. Top third of finishers. I'm wrecked. Completely and totally wrecked. I'll write about it later. I had honest to God real active hallucinations for a spell. Not the mild running fantasy fugues, but like monsters and tormentors and such. It hurt really really really bad. I don't think I'll be doing this again. Thanks to all the well-wishers. I appreciate it. I sent "Ed the Head" my number, but didn't see him.
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