Soundtrack

I forced myself into my running gear in a resounding triumph of discipline over laziness, with the consolation that I would feel better afterwards matched against my fatigue and the darkening clouds. Summer had been replaced with autumn while I was busy, and a bite of cold was in the air. The temperature had dropped to the forties, and it would probably snow later.

People walk around pushing back their debts
Wearing pay checks like necklaces and bracelets
Talking 'bout nothing, not thinking 'bout death
Every little heartbeat, every little breath
People walk a tight rope on a razor’s edge
Carrying their hurt and hatred and weapons
It could be a bomb, or a bullet, or a pen
Or a thought, or a word, or a sentence

There ain't no reason things are this way
It's how they always been and they intend to stay
I don’t know why I say the things that I say,
But I say them anyway
(Ain't No Reason from Brett Dennen)

I set off, dragging my weariness of a mis-slept week and a persistent calf strain up the first hill. My savior, my music lent me the enthusiasm my body was lacking, and I settled into the kind of pace that would get me there but necessarily any time soon. At the first corner and the first hill, the first drops of rain began to fall, and I gradually became aware of the darkening horizon, and even above my music I could hear the thunder. The mountains can be treacherous, the weather capricious and vengeful, but I decided to take my chances. I needed this.

j'ai pas le style
portant pas en style
mais c'est pas pour moi le costard uniforme

j'ai pas l'intégrale
du genre idéal
j'aurais toujours l'impression qu'on m'espionne
pourtant pas contre l'amour
je s'rais même plutôt pour

mais c'est pas pour autant qu'il faut
qu'on s'attache et qu'on s'empoisonne
avec une flèche qui nous illutionnes
faut pas qu'on s'attache et qu'on s'emprisonnes
mais rien n'empêche que l'on s'abandonnes
non...
(On s'attache from Christopher Mae)

Footfall fades into footfall, the dirt beneath my feet becomes little more than a ruddy blur, quickly turning into a muddy blur as the precipitation increases. There is no such thing as bad weather, just improper clothing, and so I soldier on. The rain turns to sleet after the first two hundred feet of elevation gain, lashing my tired and shadowed eyes like angry tears, and there is no escape, nowhere to duck into. I run into the growing storm, feeling the rush of wind and the first tingle of exhilaration.

Ich sehe, dass du denkst
ich denke, dass du fühlst
ich fühle, dass du willst
aber ich hör dich nicht

Du baust aus Schweigen dir ein Zelt
stellst es mitten in die Welt
spannst die Schnüre und staunst stumm
wenn nachts ein Mädchen drüberfällt

(Nur Ein Wort, from Wir Sind Helden)

Thoughts chase through my head like hailstones, sometimes ricocheting, sometimes finding purchase. I almost always prefer to run alone, as the exertion frees my mind to think undirected and unrestricted. It's been a hellish week of long nights, little sleep, some self doubt, a mess of personal problems intermixed with rays of sunshine, the premature flush of success, and now at least, of passe. The three and a half hours of sleep the night before were not enough to compensate, and I am feeling the effects. In the end, as is the inevitable conclusion, I appreciate the relativity of my situation: my deadlines and responsibilities will come and go, will bear fruit, and I will reap the benefits of my efforts. Delayed gratification is no problem to me. My personal frustrations are also not eternal, and are bearable, if undesired.

"Welcome to the real world", she said to me
Condescendingly
Take a seat
Take your life
Plot it out in black and white
Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings
And the drama queens
I'd like to think the best of me
Is still hiding
Up my sleeve

They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side
(No Such Thing, from John Mayer)

It's probably the slowest I've ever run this stretch, though I wear no watch. I feel the non-participation of my muscles, the faint complaints of my calves, and I lack the reserves that allow me the exhilarating stretch where I feel like I am flying. Today, that is denied me. I take solace in the weather, enjoying the cold trickle down my back and in my scalp, at the clinging wetness of my sodden jacket. I am wet, I am nature, I am free.

Time will let the story told grow and grow ‘til it unfolds
In a way that even you cannot ignore
You can say the seasons change but never if you just remain
In a place where the freeze is at your door

What you don’t know is the signs are right for the turning tide

Step out into the day, all the clouds and all the rain are gone
It’s over now
Step out into the sun, for you have only begun to know
What it’s all about
As the hungering dark gives way to the dawn, my love
It’s over now
(Into the Day [It's Over Now] from Bebo Norman)