Excedrin
Today started off sluggishly with a 20 mile ride out of a scheduled 40. Actually, I thought I was only supposed to do 30 miles, but when I looked at my training plan after the fact, I saw I really had 40 miles to do. So I went from feeling not so bad at cutting my ride by only 10 miles, to slight feelings of despair that I only did half my workout. In truth, had I known I was to go 40, I still would probably have stopped at 20 since I was exhausted. Is this interesting reading so far? Probably not.
Anyway, I suffered through exhaustion all through work and contended with another unairconditioned and crowded subway car. The appalling environment in the subway cars as of late, reminds me of riding the subways during the late 70’s, early 80’s. They were dirty, hot, grimy and slow; just like today. By the time I got home, I had a crushing migraine and just wanted to crawl under my covers. This is what I did for an hour, before I had to get up and to the Run Until the Violence Stops run in Prospect Park.
Now if this were just a scheduled evening workout, I would probably have skipped it since I was feeling so lousy. I decided though that I was going to do it no matter what for two reasons: 1 – It was too easy of a NYC Marathon Qualifier race to pass up and 2 - more importantly if I ever harbored hopes of doing the Badwater 135, I knew I would have to struggle through that race feeling worse than I do now, so I better start practicing running when I feel like shit.
As it turns out, I started to feel pretty good when I headed to the park. I felt good enough to run a 2.6 mile warm up and then ran 23:00 for the 3.2 mile race (yes, 3.2 miles). I attribute this evening burst of energy to the 2 Excedrin I took for my headache. It’s such a wonder drug.
Anyway, I suffered through exhaustion all through work and contended with another unairconditioned and crowded subway car. The appalling environment in the subway cars as of late, reminds me of riding the subways during the late 70’s, early 80’s. They were dirty, hot, grimy and slow; just like today. By the time I got home, I had a crushing migraine and just wanted to crawl under my covers. This is what I did for an hour, before I had to get up and to the Run Until the Violence Stops run in Prospect Park.
Now if this were just a scheduled evening workout, I would probably have skipped it since I was feeling so lousy. I decided though that I was going to do it no matter what for two reasons: 1 – It was too easy of a NYC Marathon Qualifier race to pass up and 2 - more importantly if I ever harbored hopes of doing the Badwater 135, I knew I would have to struggle through that race feeling worse than I do now, so I better start practicing running when I feel like shit.
As it turns out, I started to feel pretty good when I headed to the park. I felt good enough to run a 2.6 mile warm up and then ran 23:00 for the 3.2 mile race (yes, 3.2 miles). I attribute this evening burst of energy to the 2 Excedrin I took for my headache. It’s such a wonder drug.
posted by Rebel at 9:42 PM
2 Comments:
The real tension, I think, is between official poetry, the kind that we're taught in school and is kept in libraries, and the kind we really believe in - what we are writing and what our friends write. The same thing holds for meditation: what we discover for ourselves and learn. At some point you can forget it and go off and make a pot of spaghetti. We used to do go down to Muir Beach years ago to gather mussels off the rocks. We'd build a bonfire, put seaweed on the fire to steam the mussels. We'd eat them, then jump up and down in the waves and have fun. That was enough. Probably enough. Or too much. Oh, I guess Blake said it, "Enough, or too much." That's all.
- Philip Whalen, About Writing and Meditation
The real tension, I think, is between official poetry, the kind that we're taught in school and is kept in libraries, and the kind we really believe in - what we are writing and what our friends write. The same thing holds for meditation: what we discover for ourselves and learn. At some point you can forget it and go off and make a pot of spaghetti. We used to do go down to Muir Beach years ago to gather mussels off the rocks. We'd build a bonfire, put seaweed on the fire to steam the mussels. We'd eat them, then jump up and down in the waves and have fun. That was enough. Probably enough. Or too much. Oh, I guess Blake said it, "Enough, or too much." That's all.
- Philip Whalen, About Writing and Meditation
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