Running Born Again

Riffing off John 3:6-7, which says, "That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit . . . You must be born again," I've come to appreciate just how different my running has evolved over my lifetime. Certainly there was a before and an after. Before is before college; these were the Bruce Springsteen Glory Days of competition--St. Mary's and CYO championship, Cranbrook and All-State wins, and one brief stint at Duke that ended before my first semester was over. The only two codas during this period was when I ran the Cooper Bridge Run under 36:00 and when I was assistant coach at East Mecklenburg and ran the 8K in something really, really fast. Since high school, which ended in 1986, running (and fitness in general) has been a sporadic, short-lived activity punctuated by injuries and problems, most notably the "hot feet" syndrome that turned out to be ridiculously small shoes--who knew adult feet grew? The injuries of the 1990s were caused by wanting to ramp up my running to 1980s level. My weight fluctuated but steadily rose as I went through graduate school.

Then came Zachary. Becoming a parent was the reason for this sustained, four-year period of fitness. When we adopted Zachary, the time crunch hit, and I no longer had the experience of planning a run but always have an option out if I didn't run the plan: "Oh, I'll run after class," but then I'd be hungry and I'd say, "We'll I'll run after dinner," but then something on t.v. would distract me. Lord, the amount of t.v. I watched before parenthood! Soon after we adopted him, the Spring of 2003, Erica and I just made a plan--that I'd run Tuesdays and Thursdays morning for four miles and on the weekends. I did this for months before I decided I wanted to add miles, which I did much more progressively. Fast forward: I got into biking and now I've settled on a routine which I have followed for two years: April-October, I bike;October to April, I run. The Bike Ride Across Georgia is in June, and that what I tune up starting in April. Cycling season ends with 6-Gap, a century ride in October in the mountains of northeast Georgia. Running has commenced soon after that and leads up to a marathon in the early Spring. Last year, it was the Country Music Marathon in Nashville. This year I'm planning on running the first Ing Atlanta Marathon. Throughout, I lift weights.

My goal is to integrate more running in the summer and more biking in the winter, but time is really the issue. This running in the winter and biking in the summer came about because of the adage "It's never too hot to bike and never too cold to run." Besides the temperature, the reality of light, especially with daylight savings, make biking in the winter fairly restricted to weekends.

People have warned me not to stop running because "at my age" I may loose some ability to absorb the shock of running after a hiatus. Others have told me that sooner or later, my knees will keep me from running, but as with some many things that older people say, such a pronouncement strikes me as an individual generalizing from particular difficulty or failure. I just see to many old people riding their bike across Georgia in summer heat and too many old runners kicking my ass in races that I just don't buy the inevitability of decrepitude.

The Haircut

One of the elemental things that is important to me is community, and this rainy Wednesday morning, the sense of being part of a community was strong as I went for a haircut at the same place I've been having my haircut for over ten years. It's a simple thing that reveals the knowledge and sense of interconnectedness that one feels in a small community. I knew which streets to head down in order to have the best chance of finding an onstreet parking space near the barbershop--the place is decidely a barbershop, not a salon. Even as I approached the storefront, my cutter, Pam, acknowledged me with wave of a hand holding scissors. I felt as home sitting on the shop-long black bench as I do in my own kitchen. Two crisp copies of the big-city newspaper awaited me, and the gentle banter of Pam and her client were as common and comforting as listening to NPR at home.

When it was my turn in the chair, we spoke our pleasantries and she asked me questions about the new house we are building and about Z. is doing, though it had been weeks (and, for her, hundreds of clients) since we last talked. We were quiet comfortably as well. When a usual suspect stepped out of the coffeeshop next door that I recognized but didn't know, I'd ask Pam who he was. Of course, she knew. The same people have the same routines, but instead of this being monotonously or dreadful, it was comforting. The long-haired Native American-looking man whom I have seen downtown for years, Pam informed me, is an architect. For a while, the signboard for the barbershop enticed sidewalk passersby by that "four out five women prefer men with short hair." The architect, who sports a black ponytail down the length of his back, would jokingly knock on the window, point to the sign, and feign a look of exasperation.

This is another reason why my town fits me so well. The biking, running, and teaching opprtunities create a synergy for me that affects my reading and writing, but there are other elemental things that nurture my sense of self in this place that has so much there there.

Portland, Oregon

A number of my elemental things came together in my recent trip to Portland, Oregon. I went there for a conference of my professional organization that focusing on improving teaching in higher education. I was particuarly interested in traveling to Portland for this conference because I have always heard how progressive Portland is in terms of land-use, public transportation, and bike infrastructure. As a with any "business" trip, I also planned on running to see what kind of trail system the City of Roses had.

I'm always impressed when I can take a train from an American airport to my hotel. Atlanta has the truncated, half-assed version of this, but until I can take a train from Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport to the Athens multi-modal center, I won't be satisfied that Atlanta is moving in the right direction; what a wretched city to try to get around in. Anyway, in Portland, there was a short indoor walk from baggage claim to the light rail train that dropped me off literally in front of my hotel, the Red Lion down by the convention center. Cost me $4.25. If I had been paying attention, I think it should have cost me $2.

That night and early the next day, I was really unimpressed with Portland but that was because I was on the wrong side of the river from downtown. I was in the convention district, which was built there probably because there was so much more potential that actual on the east side of the Willamette. Still, that area boasted a better downtown feel than most generic American downtowns. Besides the light rail intrstructure that was attractive and safe, there were examples of what I would discovered were called Benson Bubblers--perpetually flowing water fountains funded by an early town father who was also responsible for deeding land on which some of the stunning Columbia Gorge waterfalls are located. Frequent public water fountains, along with good public transportation and good bike infrastructure, is a good indication of a thoughtful civic life. People need water and they should have to buy a bottle of Dansani for a buck and a half to quench basic thirst. Still, over on the east side where the convention center and the Lloyd center are, there are a lot of parking lots and office boxes that have a dead feeling even during the work day.

Once the conference was over, I got to explore Portland with ELP. We are city walkers. We did the usual Portland things--Japanese Gardens, Powells, tour of the gorge and the waterfalls, but mainly we wandered around city and ate good food.

We were there around Halloween, and that colors a bit my perceptions of the city because so many people walked around in costumes for the period of time I was there, so there was this kind of alternative/carnival feel about downtown and the Pearl District. A guy walking around with boxes on his heads, a woman in animal suit with a sign around her neck that said "Animals for the Ethical Treatment of People," and the assorted strumpet, French maid, and other sexy woman outfits that typify adult recogintion of Halloween. I was handed a couple of cds called "Wild Animus, a Brut Art Project." During the day, people rode bikes in cow costumes. So Portland had a baccannal feel to it that probably isn't really part of its essential fabric--though the author of Fight Club wrote a book about underground Portland that makes it sound like the west coast equivalent of Venice.

I ran twice in Portland, both times up and down the Willamette river, which flows north into the Columbia. They have a great, great trail on the east side that extends sound forever it seems, but coming back up the west side kind of sucks; though that side is considered trail, it isn't marked and is really sidewalk away from the river until you get to the riverside park downtown. Still, I had a good solid 90 minute run. I think I've started an annual tradition of running a 90-minute run during this same conference. I ran one last year when the conference was in Milwaukee, which has better running trails from downtown. My second run was twice around the more traditional running route of the Katz (?) trail on the east from the Steel Bridge to the Hawthorne Bridge and up the west-side part back to the Steel Bridge, which has a really cool pedestrian bridge that is very much below traffic level. Lots of homeless people in the park, but there was never any time when I felt threatened. And I wasn't panhandled by the obviously homeless in Portland--it was always the slacker, grunge-looking white males who always were hitting me up for money. At least they were polite about it and took my refusals gracefully.

Why is it that cities like Portland and Milwaukee have these great pedestrian/bike trails, often along abandoned rail lines, and the south lags so much? My wife just returned from Minneapolis and commented on the great infrastructure there. All three of these places has relatively inhospitable weather compared to Athens and Atlanta--so inhospitable that you can't ride a bike period. Sure we've got heat, but that doesn't impede riding. Meanwhile, in Athens, we have to push and cajole state and local officials to convert an abandoned rail line what would link the east side to downtown along a flat route. This would be as much a transportation path than an recreation one. There's little governmental vision for this. Is there any signficance in red state/blue state difference?

Saw another hawk while I was commuting in again. The color this year has been very vivid.