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.