Tuesday, April 3, 2018
the latest morning shakeout has me reeling.
as usual, fraioli brings us through interesting tidbits and commentary and things to think about while running long, or things to get us out the door to run long, or things to drink before we run. it's good stuff, and i save the reading of it until i'm alone, at work, unrushed, and waiting for a good day. i hope that today is a good day.
but there was a piece that was linked to in this issue, and i read it, and i was struck. this is not a normal tuesday thing. i read bauer's words, totally vulnerable and honest and raw and beautiful, and tears filled my eyes. it's tuesday. nothing to cry about. and everything to cry about.
before, i thought about repetition. you know, that really non-sexy stuff like putting one foot in front of the other, taking tens of thousands of steps in a day or in a race or, usually, in the dark. repetition like laundry cycles semi-cleaning pounds and pounds of sweat-soaked, stinking, synthetic garb, round and round the clicking and banging basin, wearing grooves into the ceramic kitchen floor, wearing grooves into my tolerance, scratching at my patience. repetition like one lace over the other over the other and the other. repetition like breathing in two out one in two out one. repetition like three sets of ten for all the days in a row. repetition like getting up in the dark and going to run in the dark and showering in the dark and going to sleep in the dark and waking up in the dark. repetition like saying goodbye in the morning without a kiss and saying goodnight in the dark without a kiss and going through months at a time without a kiss. repetition like meeting every tuesday night in the rain and snow and rain and rain. repetition like the cracks in the sidewalk or the potholes in the road or the fibonacci fibers of roots wrapt round and round the rutted way, holding up the mountain and my heart.
repetition is a beautiful thing.
and i read bauer's piece about hope, and found myself on both sides of the darkness: the partner wishing for light, the partner in the dark. maybe i am both. and i remembered the importance of fraioli's point: show up, and do the work, every time. it doesn't have to be glorious, every time. it doesn't have to win or take home the prize or look amazing or wonderful; it just has to be done. as AW would say: stay the fuck on it.