No longer the eldest

As I write, the white noise of a large band of rain is cocooning me in my bed. It is a lovely sound, for sleeping; not so lovely for a scheduled long run and a planned move day. They say it's good luck for rain on your wedding day; I'm not necessarily of the opinion the same applies to moving day.

Nevertheless, the run will happen, the move will happen, as all things happen, regardless of the weather. Today, as I prepare to head from the Sandflats to the Piedmont, I need to pause and pay tribute to two special people.

I'mma Hoping for Raleigh

For nearly five months I have been commuting from Wayne County to the Raleigh area for work. I have largely enjoyed this 100 mile round trip commute because it is often quiet and full of interesting things to see.

#19: Halfway there

Ah, September.

The month that says good-bye to summer and our full weekends; shuffles kids back to school, businesses back on the track of finishing the year strong.

The month that heralds the beginning of autumn, as the days tip past equilibrium into the realm of more dark than light.

The month that makes me both wishful and wistful.

Love of Life

"So here's what Coach Vigil was trying to figure out: was Zatopek a great man because he ran? Vigil couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his gut kept telling him that there was some kind of connection between the capacity to love and the capacity to love running. The engineering was certainly the same: both depended on loosening your grip on your own desires, putting aside what you wanted and appreciating what you got, being patient and forgiving and undemanding. Sex and speed - haven't they always been symbiotic for most of our existence, as intertwined as the strands of our DNA? We wouldn't be alive without love; we wouldn't have survived without running; maybe we shouldn't be surprised that getting better at one could make you better at the other.

Courtesy of Chris McDougall

There's something so universal about that sensation, the way running unites our two most primal impulses: fear and pleasure. We run when we're scared, we run when we're ecstatic, we run away from our problems and run around for a good time.

It's the time of year where I reread Chris McDougall's Born to Run. I bought it in December 2009 after running my first half marathon that November in Richmond and have read it once a year since.

I find something different in its pages every time.

Also, this:

Day 10 (and 11): Farewell to Summer

Saturday morning, I looked out into a hushed, misty world and (at 8:22) headed down through fog towards the beach for Day 10.

Day 10 can only be described as a perfect 10.