back to the black

uh, top.

went running on saturday. it's been many many months. i'm many many decapounds heavier than the last time i'd run. i worried for my knees.

turns out it was more a problem for my lungs and calves. i'd forgotten how a tough run (and this weekend, 2.5-3mi was "tough") knocks out the old URS for the remainder of the day, and evidently, not running for 6 months and then running => sore calves for at least 3 days (and counting). but the thing i noticed most, of course, was how crappy my mp3 player sounded. i reckoned it was just my crappy running cans, but i swapped out my player for hops' ipod and it turns out it's my sandisk mp3 player (i name names!). that thing sucks big time, and in more ways than one: besides the distortion, clipping, and absolutely muffled sounding presentation, the thing sorts songs -- songs with id3 "track number" tags and a naming convention of \d\d_.*\.mp3, no less -- by... wait for it... timestamp. that's right, by the time at which the OS decided to copy the files to the mp3 player's flash drive.

LAME.

anyhow, that part was lame. and so has been the recovery. and the lead up. pretty much everything about running i dislike except the actual running. that part was better than i remembered.

for me, i can have a perfect moment when i'm running, even (apparently) on a short run like that one, where a confluence of events and impressions (pain, heat, sun, music, posture, motion, direction, air) are reduced in the crucible of my brooks to a philosopher's stone of mixed metaphorical nibbana.

or something. anyhow, i enjoy it. for me, the moment on saturday came (and was marred by poor performance from my sandisk mp3 player) as i began the downhill on Fleas, "heavyweight" reached its crescendo, the sun beat down on me, and i raised my eyes and arms heavenward to breathe. it were a beyootiful thing, i tells ya.

and then for the rest of the day, with the hurty lungs. the price i pay.