Walt Whitman, Robert Frost, and Ani DiFranco? Yes.

I went south in North Little Rock this morning on the trail.  I hadn't gone that way since summer, I guess, because lots had changed.  I went in that direction in order to get a good hill in--the one that leads up to Ft. Roots.  The run started out fine.  I overdressed, as always.  I stood by the car telling myself, "You don't need the jacket, you don't need the jacket!"  But then the wind gusted up and I put on the jacket.  In maybe three miles I had it tied around my waist.

I took the turn just past the skate park and went up the hill.  It looks nice there, but the hill really kicked my butt early on.  I turned into the drive that leads up to Ft. Roots where it's lined with rocks; I got to the  stop sign and realized it was a series of switchbacks.  Since I've been kind of lazy the last couple of weeks, I decided to go on back down and try going higher next time.  I'll definitely be working the hill into all of my long runs up until the marathon.

Back down the hill, I ran on to downtown North Little Rock, turned around, and went back.  I still felt fine.  Just before reaching the skate park again, with the sun shining at my back, I really hit a nice stride.  I felt like I was gliding.  I prayed--for whomever popped into my mind.  I looked up at the high bluffs past the FOP building and searched for eagles.  I saw something--probably not an eagle, but maybe a hawk or a falcon.  It was soaring, first in one direction and then back, high high above me near the top of the bluff where pine trees perched.  I watched for as long as I could, even stumbling off the path a few times.

I thought about Walt Whitman.  The river was broad and calm on my left, brown and friendly looking.  I remembered parts Song of Myself:

Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore,
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout,
and laughingly dash with your hair.

Maybe we're not by the sea here, but I felt like I was swimming boldly, and I smiled, felt like shouting. So often I have fears that hold me back, that make me wade by the shore, as Whitman says, and as a runner I've jumped off into the midst of doing.  As I ran a bit away from the river and into some trees, I thought about Robert Frost and "Birches."  The trees weren't bent from side to side--they were narrow and numerous, their branches bare and their trunks striping multiple colors along the trail.  I realized that I'm lucky--and glad--to have a poetic landscape in my mind, to be reminded of these people who said these things that have meant very much to me and so many other people over the years.  Reading has given me a frame of reference for other things that had, at one time, been missing from my life.  Running gives me another frame of reference.  

It seemed like my playlist was on my side this morning.  Over and over, just the right song came on.  Here's a crazy thing--I grinned when Ani DiFranco started singing "As Is," and I promise I thought of God.

"And I've got

No illusions about you

And guess what?

I never did

And when I said

When I said I'll take it

I meant

I meant as is"

Isn't that true about God (or the Creator, or the great spirit, or whoever or whatever you venerate in this world). And then later:

"Cause when I look around

I think this, this is good enough

And I try to laugh

At whatever life brings

Cause when I look down

I just miss all the good stuff

When I look up

I just trip over things" 

How could I think anything but "This is good enough" when I'm gliding along the river under my own power, doing something I love and am always thankful to be able to do? 

And no discussion of my playlist would be complete without mentioning Ashley McBryde and "Journey."  "It's all about the journey," she says, and it is.  Getting somewhere, going somewhere, somewhere deliberate.  

Maybe it got hard somewhere after mile 16 or so.  I pushed, and asked myself, of course, when was 18 miles ever supposed to be easy?  For the last mile I kept my pace below 9 minutes per mile, reached deep, reached out to the all the slumbering tree life around me, narrowed my vision to the tunnel in front of me, and just ran.  At 18 miles I stopped running and had about a half mile cool down walk to my car.  I think that was the toughest part.

Finally, I went to Feastros with J and ate, as I said I wanted to, like it was my job.  Catfish perfectly fried, barbecue pork with spicy sauce, potatoes and gravy, fried okra, greens with pepper sauce, some amazing cajun chicken pasta, baked beans, banana pudding...who knows what else.  I ate two plates of food and then the banana pudding and waddled out, went to get Ty, drove through Sonic, and hit the couch with Max/Killer and reruns of Friends.   This Has Got to Be the Good Life.

So much to say!
The Mexico trip was awesomely amazing, but it set me back as far as running is concerned (it was worth it!)  We left early on a Saturday when I should have been doing a 12 mile run.  I had thoughts of maybe doing the 12 miles on Sunday, but a couple of hard core margaritas in the pool that afternoon (it was happy hour!) changed my mind for me.  I went out for three runs while I was in Cancun.  Each was 5 miles and each was a struggle.  It was hot, I wasn't comfortable in my surroundings, and it was hot.  I should have done another 12 miler this past weekend, but that didn't happen either.  Moving on...

I ran 5 on Monday, 5 on Tuesday, and 4 this afternoon.  I'd been watching the weather because, if you're local, you know today is about rain, and more rain.  When I got home it was merely cloudy and I raced to get into my running stuff.  I checked the radar. Rain was coming, and it looked to be heavy.  I heard the first few drops hit the kitchen vent...and decided not to go.  I changed into sweats and took the dogs out, feeling a bit cut loose.  Laundry now?   The rain didn't pick up.  I checked the radar a few more times, looked at how slowly it was moving, and threw caution to the wind.  I hurried back into my running stuff and headed out.

I wanted at least 3, preferably 4 miles before the heavy stuff hit.  For most of the run it rained very lightly.  It felt really good--the air was soothing, the mist felt good on my face, and I kept a good pace.  The heavier stuff didn't stop until I was at about the 2.5 mile point.  I decided that I would head home after 3 miles--no need to get caught in a downpour.  BUT as I came to a stop to cross the street to head home, there were cars coming.  Several cars.  I thought, why stand in the rain and wait?  To Hell With It!  I took a right and ran up the street to get the fourth mile in.

Running in the rain is exhilarating.  From the time it started to rain harder, I had a huge smile on my face.  I'm so glad I got out there when I did!  I came in, stripped out of the wet clothes, rewarded myself with a beer, and started dinner.  Get out there and do it!!

What a crazy week!  I went back to work reluctantly on Tuesday and then stayed home with Ty on Thursday because he was sick.  Thursday night I developed a stomach virus and had to stay home on Friday as well.  Sensible people would maybe decide not to run 16 miles the day after recovering from a stomach virus, but sensible people don't do a lot of distance running, I don't think.

The one concession to sense that I made was to stay close to home.  That made the run a bit (ok, a lot) boring--doing circles around Jacksonville is not exactly entertaining.  It worked out, and I really did feel fine.  In the last mile my legs were shaky and complaining, but overall I think it went better than my first 16 miler last summer.  The temperature difference probably has a lot to do with that.

I had a couple of huge revelations while running--why not move the tall bookcase from the spare room to the kitchen, get rid of all the children's books that Ty has outgrown, and use the bookcase for cookbooks and small appliances?  And that plant that won't fit anywhere?  Oh, and here's how I can organize the lessons for my classes next week...and I have to make sure I don't forget my passport when I pack to leave.... I've also been inspired by this blog, so I spent some miles thinking about how great it will be to start moving clutter out of my home and my life.

In the last five minutes or so of my run, when I was really dragging, One Republic came on the running list playing "Good Life." It reminded me of another song from years ago, one whose title I'll never think of, that I called the curvy song.  There was something about the tune of the song that seemed to make curves to me.  The whistling part of "Good Life" is like that.  It was the perfect song for my mindset right then--I picked up my head and looked around and let the song flow through me and carry me on.  This is a good life.

Goodbye, 2011.

I sent out 2011 with a 15 mile run on the river trail.  It was a beautiful sunny day, warm, and lots of people were out.  In Two Rivers Park, especially, the people were thick--mostly walkers and families.  I didn't mind weaving through them, though.  I love to see all those people out.

Long runs are like vacations.  When they start, you have all of that out in front of you.  It seems like it will last a long time.  Bit by bit you get through it, a day or a half-hour at a time, and eventually you look back at the beginning and it seems like it started ages ago.  That was true for yesterday.

I was nervous about getting back up that high in miles, wondering how my knee would hold out, but I was excited for the nice weather.  I loosened up and the run was uneventful.  The slant of sunlight in the winter is so much different than in summer.  Running along between the big dam bridge and two rivers bridge, the sun was already throwing deep shadows over the trail.  It was cool and felt much later than it really was.  I felt strange and was glad to get back in the light.  The last 6 miles were tough.  It felt like I should be closer to being done and six more miles sounded crazy long.  In the last mile I must have looked at the garmin ten times.  I tried to make myself stop by picking out trees to run to instead.  They make better goals.

I finished the run at the same spot where I finished my first ever 15 miler.  The sun was low in the sky on the other side of the river, and the view was awesome.  I wish I had taken a picture because I can't describe it well.  It seemed like the perfect view to be looking out on at the end of a run on the last day of the year, and Chris Pureka started singing "Burning Bridges" on my playlist.  I stood in the grass and looked out over the river to stretch and think and say my own private goodbye to 2011.