Crush

It was a flurry, nay, a spate. It was glorious, revelatory, exciting, unexpected, occasionally harrowing in its utterly raw spirit. And deeply affecting. From nowhere to everywhere. It burrowed inside and would not let go. It filled me, it drained me. It lit me up like nothing ever before. And then it vanished.

So much beauty and pain. I am all I could offer. I am Disturbed. I am Stricken. Yet I am strangely joyous. I am awake to possibilities I did not seek.

Kiss me one last time.

What boorish behavior

Is it the weather? Is it sheer stupidity? Is it an inability to separate real from imagined? Is it a learned response? What is it that makes people fight? And is it more prevalent here in the city, or am I just more exposed to it by living in a densely-populated place?

Two days ago I came home for lunch to a block filled with (mostly) young people battling in the street. It appeared to be between two houses in particular, but there was some spillover. Fortunately the most lethal weapon I saw was a wiffle bat, though there was one broom. No knives, no guns - which is fairly unheard of in this neighborhood. Just a bunch of yahoos yelling amidst the ebb and flow of bodies back and forth across the street. The police came, all six cars worth, and settled the fracas. Again. The same crew lit up the block two weeks ago. I am mostly only concerned about the child in one of the houses and her ability grow up unscathed by her mother's behavior.

It's a spectator sport, of course. All those who were not involved were out on their porches watching. Given the relatively low physicality of it all I suppose that's to be expected. Still, it was a pretty unhinged vignette. The looks on peoples' faces ranged from bemused to just shy of true malice. I did overhear one person say that someone ought to call the cops, but no one jumped at the opportunity.

The next day brought an even sadder scene, also on my way home for lunch. Two teenaged girls were duking it out on the sidewalk while their mothers egged them on! I didn't stick around to see if the parents got into it as well, but it sure wouldn't have surprised me. What on earth were they all thinking? That's just so far removed from my experience. I don't get it.

Sensory goodness in an urban environment

Not everything that happens in South Philly counts as horror-fest material. I want to dissuade you of that notion. Sure, it has its moments, but there are some good things that should be noted. (These happen to affect the ears, eyes and nose.)

For instance, I realized this past week that SEPTA has now replaced nearly all of its buses with hybrids. They are so quiet! It's almost like you don't notice them anymore. It used to be that you couldn't help but notice them, what with the engine noise and diesel smoke belching from the back. Now it's just a smooth, gentle behemoth gliding block to block. So thanks, SEPTA. Money well spent.

I was running through FDR Park this morning and saw one of the ball fields being cut. In and of itself that's pretty unremarkable, but I have some historical perspective here. I used to go to the Spectrum for concerts almost weekly in high school (mid- to late-70's time frame) and FDR was a bombed-out, weed-stricken wasteland. Now it's not. Anyway, the ball fields are in really nice shape, and this particular groundskeeper was doing a second pass, on the bias. It makes for a more uniformly smooth surface to play on, and it looks darned good, too. More importantly, I think, is the dedication of the person cutting that grass. It's time-consuming to do it right, but there he was, paying attention to detail for the benefit of all of us. So thanks, Parks and Rec. Time well spent.

On the food front, you may or may not know that I am a vegetarian. Not a militant one, and too enamored of ice cream to become a vegan, but I don't eat meat anymore. For no particular reason. It just kind of happened. I do not mind the smell of grilling meat, though. (Except that really humid morning I ran through the tailgater smoke at Citizens Bank Park and nearly lost it.) And there are two spots on my commute that stand out.

First, Nick's Charcoal Pit at 13th and Snyder. It smells of quality charcoal and animal fat when I go by any time after about 11 in the morning. Simple, succulent. Second, Nick's Old Original at 20th and Jackson. When I was a kid growing up in a 200-year old farmhouse in Valley Forge, Saturday meant a trip to the lumber yard for one project or another, and on more than a few occasions lunch at the Beef and Ale in Berwyn. My dad invariably had a glass of Rolling Rock draft and I had a soda. It went perfectly with the hot roast beef sandwich. What a heavenly smell and taste. The block downwind of Nick's smells just like that every day but Sunday. So thanks, you guys named Nick. Aromas well vented.

I am a runner

It's pretty hard to believe that I am enjoying running. At no point in my life did I think this would be the case. I ran track in high school and was a pretty good sprinter (9.87 hundred) but never wanted to run any distance to do the training to get better. I even begged off the longer training runs in college when I was rowing and in ridiculously good shape. Because I smoked from the time I was 14. It was just too much effort to run more than ten minutes at a time. Of course, I'm not sure I knew that then. I just didn't feel like it.

But this is different. I quit smoking cold turkey when I was 24 and for some idiotic reason started again ten years later. The past couple of years people would ask me when I was going to quit. I had this niggling idea that I wouldn't smoke for my whole life but I sure wasn't ready to stop. But my employer offers free patches and counseling plus a credit against medical benefits costs. So in February I decided it was time. The 21st. That was the last day I smoked. Eight weeks of the patch and weekly check-ins with a counselor and that was the end of it.

On June 4th I decided to reward myself for this accomplishment. I mean, really, I'd smoked for a total of 30-odd years and this is a BIG DEAL. Those who know me are familiar with my propensity to dive into new things head first, get bored and move on to something else. (I wonder if I have ADD?) So the decision to run in a marathon five months later was perhaps a bit grandiose, but I did a fair amount of research and found that I had plenty of time to train to finish a marathon. So on June 5th I registered for the Philadelphia Marathon on November 17th. I went to Philadelphia Runner and got fitted for running shoes and began this new journey.

Today marks 250 miles in. That's just incredible. The picture above shows my two pairs of Asics, because I know the first pair won't last through November. Interestingly, the new pair, although exactly the same shoe, does not feel the same. I can't decide if it's because the first pair are worn in and comfy or if they're just different. We'll give them a couple of weeks and then decide. Over the next ten weeks I'll tack on another 350 miles. And it's all good.

That's not to say that there aren't any days when it's hard to get going, or finish, but all in all I feel defined by my running now. It's a regular part of my week and affects many aspects of my days. There are new aches and pains that come and go as the weeks pass (I'm really glad my right hip has stopped hurting so much) and my diet is a constant part of my day. Being a vegetarian requires vigilance doing endurance work. The brass ring is hanging out there for me, though. On November 17th I will finish my first marathon and the feeling is going to be simply amazing. Which is why I've already registered for the next one. And why I'm even considering swimming, something I liked less than running, even though I was good at that, too, so I can do a triathlon. That'd be cool.

I do not run with earbuds. It's probably a walking and chewing gum thing. I don't think I could run at a steady pace if I had music playing. Especially with all the time signature changes in the metal I love so. I'd be out of breath after three songs. And you're not allowed to run races with them anyway. No, I enjoy taking in my surroundings and listening to my body. The vast majority of my runs are in the morning, but today I started around 5:00 and had the great pleasure of seeing late afternoon sun on the Delaware River, silhouettes of egrets and herons in sharp contrast to the water.

Climatology sidelight here: I have run on fifty one separate occasions through this past summer, virtually all of them outside. I have not once run in the rain. And we've had record rainfall this year.

At this point in my life it is enough to know that, having set a goal, I can accomplish it and move on to the next. I do it each week as I add mileage. Too many years went by without focus. And I can breathe!

Bottle that euphoria

I consider myself to be optimistic (some have even called me a Pollyanna), but there are times, moments, when my faith in humanity is shaken. As an addict who has been through rehab I have seen the basest of behaviors and yet I have also seen in those same people a core of humility and the ability to love unconditionally. Those experiences have colored how I view the world around me and given me a pretty firm belief in the goodness of humans. This may be why I enjoy reading Dean Koontz. It's certainly why my RoadID says, "Definitely half full!"

I had a co-worker point out the other day, very casually I might add, that we live in the "meanest part of America's meanest city." That really got me wondering if it's true. There is no question that South Philly has its share of meanies, but is it really the worst? I'd be curious to hear from other parts of the country - I've read often that Milwaukee is a really nice place to live, for instance. Still, I sure do encounter a lot of negativity.

I commute by bike and yesterday had to slam on my brakes and skid to a stop so a young woman on the phone could pull halfway out into the intersection. I have to admit I became the lowest common denominator and cursed her stupidity, out loud. She then proceeded to yell back at me (with a much deeper shade of blue language), head out the window, while she continued across the rest of the intersection without looking the other way, causing those oncoming cars to do the same thing I had just done, still on the phone.

Of course, I'm on the front lines a good part of the day, working customer service, so maybe I'm just seeing a subset of folks. But then I think about the unseen instances. Like the clear baggie full of dog poop in a store display. Who uses clear baggies for that? But let's give them the benefit of the doubt, because they did clean up after their dog. But why would you take it inside, only to leave it out in the open? That's just plain malicious. We have lots of trashcans. Please use one next time. Or returning industrial-sized fans, ostensibly, and filling the boxes with cinderblocks. Shame on us for not checking every box, but really? What were you thinking when you got up this morning? That it sure looks like a good day to take advantage of someone's better nature?

This is about nothing more or less than kindness. I fear becoming an old crank, but I don't want to spend all of my time assuming the worst of others. It needn't be this way. I was riding home two days ago and passed a young girl twirling on the sidewalk with two big balloons. She stopped and looked at me almost guiltily but with a hint of a smile still there. I said, "You look very happy." She replied, with a bigger smile, "I am." And so I smiled the rest of the way home. It takes so little. Mind you, this was ten minutes after I realized that someone had taken the lights off my bike while I spent five minutes in the grocery store. That's $35 to replace them instead of getting $35 worth of groceries, or whatever. Did that thought go through that person's mind as they removed them? I guess not, or the lights would still be there. But the smile was the balance. That's why there is a yin-yang on my shoulder.

You can't take this happiness stuff for granted. As glorious as it feels to smile a big smile it wouldn't be that big a deal if there wasn't as big a negative to make it a big deal. A couple of times in the past few weeks I've had these massive bursts of euphoria, out of the blue. I can only attribute them to the training I'm doing for the marathon in November. It's awesome and I wish I could bottle it and give it to some of the miserable people out there. Pity, that.