ADVENTURES IN RUNNING, LITERATURE, & LIFE
Happy Day of Equal Light and Dark, or…HAPPY SPRING! Whoot whoot!
Anyways, I confess that I have spring fever: restless and wanting warmer weather (i.e., I WANT SUMMER NOW)! Even Boots the Cat seems to be antsy, too. And yes, she DID attempt to distract me while I was setting up my computer to write, surprise surprise. In fact, I just realized I have CAT HAIR on the key pad, whelp.
~LMC
Oh sigh, apparently I have displeased the Computer Gods in that my laptop went completely kaput a few days ago. It was the dreaded Blue Screen of Death, the final death knell for my device. I have my phone of course, to keep me connected in this digitized world, but have been unable to write, or rather, type out posts. And so I undergo a quest to find a new computer! Wish me luck hehe 🙂
~LMC
All writers know—and despise!—writer’s block, the dreaded time when you just can’t…write. At all. Or well, at least. But do you have that one distraction that prevents or interrupts your writing? A clingy toddler? A messy room? (got to have your feng shui in order!)
For me, it’s my cat. A creature that is the very paragon of feline-ness: pointedly ignores all when you need companionship most, but then protests for attention at the most inconvenient of times. This is Bootsie. She is as far from a dog as you can get.
Initially I was writing a different post but Bootsie made known her need for attention: meowing pitifully at my door, breaking up my writing thoughts. I tried to ignore her. After all, she could’ve cuddled with me when I took a nap this afternoon. I even have her “nest,” or her favorite blanket, all set up at the end of the bed. But nope! Cats choose what they need, when they need it. This is what makes them so human, and why I love them so much (however much they irritate me at times).
Ceding to my cat’s wishes, I abandoned my initial post and opened the door. She shot in, hopped on her “nest,” and demanded that we CUDDLE RIGHT NOW, B%&$! She saw my lap top and decided for the moment that she wouldn’t crawl onto my lap. Normally, I don’t mind juggling cat and computer on my lap while surfing the web, but during writing time? NOPE! Whenever I was home from college right before finals week, she’d ALWAYS interrupt my studying: meowing at the door, hogging my desk chair, WALKING and SITTING across the keypad (she nearly deleted one of my essays)!
But tonight, I made known to her that I was going to resume writing, no matter how pissy she got. Unable to resume my other post, I started this one instead. I know it won’t be the last time Bootsie interrupts my writing time. Like my muse, the cat shows at the oddest times. So now it goes I type this sitting against the side of my bed, Bootsie just above my shoulder and purring like a motor boat. Annoying though she may be, I’d like to think she’s cheering, or rather purring, me on. It’s nice to know I have support in my writing endeavors.
And plus…ever since Flash entregar el alma (one of my fave Spanish colloquial phrases; best translation is “gave up the ghost”), Bootsie has been unusually loving and more purry. So thank you Boots. I mean it.
POST SCRIPT: Right when I finished this and got ready to post is when Bootsie decided to make her exit. Figures. Friggin’ felines 😉
~LMC
It’s a good day: ran 13.1 today AND it’s Bowie’s Birthday!
This is the second time I’ve ran this distance, and both runs were just on my own. I am currently training for an actual half marathon race coming up soon, and I guess I’m ready, much sooner than I thought! It was stunning outside today, t-shirt and shorts weather in January—heck yeah!
Today is what would’ve been Bowie’s 71st birthday. Two years on this very day, Bowie’s album, the critically acclaimed Blackstar came out. Two days later, he was gone. I’m still in a bit of shock that he is no longer on this earthly plane. He truly is a STARMAN now (not that he wasn’t before).
I am a Bowiephile, and I have my Dad to thank for that. 🙂 Ever since I can remember, Bowie has been on constant play in my parent’s house. No joke, when I was a toddler my mom would put a Bowie VHS tape (90s kid hehe) in the VCR, and I’d watch Bowie music vids while she did things around the house, no babysitter required. My fave Bowie VHS tape (we still have it) is Black Tie, White Noise, his ’93 album. I still love that particular Bowie era: he looks so fine in the “They Say Jump” vid. 🙂
I could dedicate this blog to Bowie’s talent and overall aesthetic (I’m sure plenty of those blogs exist), but let me get back on track here. I just want to say Happy Birthday David. We all miss you. And yes, I did listen to your music during my long run today. I often like to finish the last mile or two listening to “V-2 Schneider:” the bass and saxophone in that song are perfection. As is of course, that final guitar riff at the end, and I often sprint during that piece. So thinking of you today, Dave. Thank you for the memories and for literally being the soundtrack of my life (and all my running).
-LMC
I am a nostalgic person. No doubt about it. You know you are when:
A: You have a beyond freakish tendency to memorize dates. Ask what happened on today or any given date, and I can recite what happened X amount of years ago, easy.
B: You keep track of time, ie; you always recall what happened 6 months ago, a year ago, etc. You see time in a linear fashion.
Yep. I hold memories, good and bad, close to me. I don’t need to physically write down important days or events; my mind does it all for me. This is equally amusing, irritating, and sometimes painful. The best memories of my life—time at the barn, road trips with dad, triumphant wins in tennis, college, etc.—I know the dates for. But painful and awkward times are easily retained too. A certain anniversary passes by, and I’m either aglow with warm and fuzzy memories, or silently brooding over a sad event.
Most often however, nostalgia I find as a comfort. So it comes as no surprise that I’m usually not a big fan of New Year’s: like a dear friend, I’m reluctant to say farewell to a happy or spectacular year. Why should I have to say goodbye to a particular timeframe in which I was happy, content with everything? A new year means says going goodbye, stepping into something new. New Year’s means change, which can be scary. When I was younger, New Year’s was my least favorite holiday.
This New Year’s Eve, however, is different. It’s been a challenging year to say the least, but 2017 certainly had it great moments. Chiaroscuro, the Italian art term for contrasts in lighting, light and dark: this year was it. I got to spend one last glorious summer with my boy, Flash, knowing all too well that I’d be, and was the one, to make that final decision to let him go. To choose the how and when and why of his means of passing. To arrange, while he was still alive, how and when he would be buried. To sign a contract stating that I understood the manner and date of burial.
So I’m more than ready for a new year. Bring it. Am I nostalgic for those last months I spent with Flash? God yes. Of course I am, and will forever be. But then again, I have a lifetime of happy “Fuzzy” memories, literally. I’ve always imagined that each cherished memory is like a precious, rare gemstone. My heart then, is studded with these “gems.” There’s a countless amount of “Flashy” gems. Tennis gems. Happy childhood, loving family gems. Call it cheesy or what have you, but that’s how I picture memories.
To conclude (what, is this an academic paper? Haha!), I say cheers to 2018. Let’s strike it rich with more gems. My nostalgia will never fade, but a new feeling of hope, or maybe just being…well, antsy, impatient, restless–for something new, some sort of change, pervades. Le tiemps viendra: the time will come.
~LMC
Many of you are aware that I lost my horse, Flash, a few months ago. On the day he peacefully passed, I composed what is, in my opinion, the best-written and most heartrending work I’ve ever done. There were tears, yes, as I began writing his tribute within hours of the event, and yet as I wrote, I felt…peace. I still believe I was in some state of shock–the dreadful thing had happened, had come to pass–yet my mind was acting in self-preservation mode, to get things done. Writing is catharsis and writing my beloved Fuzzy’s eulogy proved extremely healing. I wanted to acknowledge every important little detail about the time we spent together, the happy memories made. And of course, the everlasting impressions this equine had not just on me, but on everyone, he knew.
I still, and will forever miss, my best, furriest, fuzziest friend. As I said in my eulogy, “I will miss (insert event/ feeling).” I still catch myself thinking, “I’ll go to the barn,” but then reality strikes quick, and a weight of sadness descends upon me…
BUT:
I take GREAT comfort in knowing that Flash spent his last summer on earth surrounded by family and friends, being spoiled every day with tons of treats and attention. I thought I’d spoiled my horse before but was it tenfold this summer? On top of receiving grain every day, he grazed on the lushest grass and ate carrots and apples smothered in molasses. I let him wander wherever he wanted, as he was always so curious, interested in his surroundings, and making new friends (be it human, equine, feline, or canine).
As one of the girls who rode him said, “Flash reminds me of how older folks eat dinner, and then afterward go on a walk.” That was exactly it. As soon as he’d finished inhaling the last bit of feed, he’d start wandering somewhere, usually over to the “Hay Buffet” (the hay trolley), or to a patch of verdant grass. I’d follow him around, and it was both amusing and heartwarming to observe his wanderings. If he crossed paths with someone, he’d stop to say hello, and was often rewarded with kind pats and treats.
I miss my furry equine friend. I miss him every day. Yet in my sadness, there is one feeling absent—agony. I have no remorse, no regret, in choosing the why and how we let him go. Flash was old, 94 in human years (!), and had had a long and very, very happy life.
Choosing when and how to say goodbye to an animal friend is always extremely tough. What made it even more difficult was that Flash was still Flash: the happy, carefree, loving pony I’d always known. Mentally, he was all there. But physically he was declining. My dad and I used to joke that Flash looked like a “middle-aged guy with a gut”–slightly overweight at times, but very healthy. But Flash was shrinking, despite his great appetite. And no matter how much we fed him, nothing worked. Having been diagnosed with Cushing’s disease a few years ago, a disorder in which the pituitary gland overproduces cortisol (stress hormone), it is also possible there may have been tumors in other parts of his body. Regardless, Flash was old, and his time was limited. Mentally alert and intelligent as ever, yet his body was slowly failing. It was only a matter of time before something catastrophic happened: Flash collapsing, too weak to get up, in fear, and in pain.
Despite my constant care, Flash was not going to improve in the end. I couldn’t cure him. In late spring the vet looked him over and decided it was time to make that decision. I cried as she discussed why she thought it best, but I understood. She made it clear I could spend a few more months with my pony and spoil him rotten.
In those last months, I researched euthanasia, which means “kind death.” A form of lethal injection, most vets administer a sedative first so that the animal is made unconscious, unaware of what is happening. The lethal shot follows immediately after, taking less than a minute for the animal to slide from unconsciousness into death. There is no pain at all; it is the kindest, quietest way to go. More than once I’ve heard that euthanasia is the final and ultimate act of love, in choosing to have a beloved creature avoid any suffering.
In the minutes leading up to that final goodbye, my vet, assigned to administer the euthanasia…this makes me cry to write it…hugged me tight as I sobbed my heart out. She said, “Know that you will never have to worry about discovering him in his pasture, injured and in fear. Know you will never have to see him suffer, that he will never have to know pain.”
Somehow, my voice beyond raw, I replied, “He’s lived a long and extremely happy life.”
The vet looked me full in the face. “If only all animals could be so lucky.”
Amen.
-LMC
Yesterday I went on a 10 mile run, my first in a long time, and it was…delicious. Seriously, it was heaven.
I know, I know. For those who absolutely DESPISE running, you think we runners are INSANE. And in truth, we are.
Humans are bizarre creatures. After all, what creature exercises for fun? I remember those XC runners in high school, who proudly wore shirts that proclaimed, “Our sport is your sports’ punishment.” True dat. As a kid, I was never a big fan of running. Niether of my parents are runners, and on field day in elementary school, I was the slowest runner in my class. Every sprint, every relay, I was schooled. The taller, stronger, more athletically inclined kids crossed the finish line long before I had run past the first turn on the course.
I am, and will forever be, a tennis player. It’s the sport I’ve been playing since age 6, and continued all through my adolescence–USTA tournaments, practices, high school and college tennis. It’s only been the past few years that I haven’t been playing as much, but I never set aside my racquet for good. I still love tennis, it’s the sport I first identified with. Running came later–my college years.
I can tell you the exact day I discovered I actually LIKED running. 18 November 2010 was like any college day for me. Go to classes, have lunch before tennis practice. But instead of the usual 2 hr. tennis practice, it was a shorter one as the women’s team had to run 3 miles to raise money for the college tennis teams (our annual Runathon). I had never run 3 miles in my entire life. The days leading to the run, I was very nervous. Thoughts swarmed me: I’m never gonna make it, I’ll have to walk it, I’ll embarrass myself, I CAN’T RUN!
The day of, I told myself to do my best, whatever that meant. The course was city sidewalks in the middle of my small college town. As we all assembled in the parking lot next to the courts, my heart sped up. As our coach called go, we all started running up the first hill. Keep pace with the other girls was my thought, but I immediately realized something: they weren’t running competitively. Nope! They wanted to socialize instead, whereas I found myself wanting to break free of talking and running as a group; I wanted to a) run fast and b) run solely on my own. So I did. Quickening my pace, I soon found myself passing everyone and taking the lead. With my trusty iPod Nano blaring Crystal Castles in my ears, I flew away, rounding corners and speeding across town. I CAN DO THIS! This revelation reverberated through my being. I. CAN. RUN. And I realized I didn’t feel tired at all; my fitness from months of tennis and conditioning had come to fruition. I felt free and was having…fun! Fun while running! What a concept.
The last 3/4 of a mile were a gradual slope, and I flew down the hill at such a pace that a guy standing in front of his house cheered, “Go! Go! Go!” and waved his arms in the air. Encouraged, I sprinted the last quarter mile back to the tennis bubble: first one to finish!
My feet seemed to float as I walked into the tennis lobby, and my face and body felt aglow: my first runner’s high. Who knew running could make you feel soooo good? I was hooked—and for life.
I don’t remember the time I got, just that it was under 30 minutes (the time limit for us). Once the team started finishing, they looked at me in astonishment: “Dang, you were quick!” “I didn’t know you liked to run! Wish I did!” “You took off!” My tennis coach high-fived me: “Well done out there!” Uber-proud and content, I knew I had just discovered a lifelong passion.
~LMC
