sept 11/RUN

5 miles
franklin loop
64 degrees
light rain

What a run! I haven’t run 5 miles in months. Loved running in the rain. At first, I was listening to my audio book, but after hearing the water gushing through the sewer pipe near the 36th street parking lot, I decided to listen to the rain instead. Not too long after I started running, I began making up little poems/chants. I did them in 4/4 because I wanted to get into a rhythm with a strong downbeat on my right leg. I kept doing them for most of the run. Here’s what I remember:

I am running
in the ra-in (which then became: in the cold/warm/soft rain)
will it stop now?
never again

Rain is falling
on my shoulder
rain is falling
on my knee

Rain is falling
on my elbow
and it’s dropping
from that tree

pitter patter
pitter patter
pitter patter
drip drip drop

pitter patter
pitter patter
drip drop drip drop
drip drop drip drop

There were more, but I can’t remember them now. I guess I should have stopped and recorded them on my phone. It was interesting how the verses shifted and become more rhythmic as I ran longer. Really cool and so much fun. No brilliant poems, but who cares?!

Today I noticed some leaves changing color. Just off the railing near the lake street bridge I spied some red–or was it orange? I’ll have to check–peeking through. On the St. Paul side, approaching Marshall, I noticed some more reddish-orange/orangish-red leaves blazing near the ground. The grayish light and the wet pavement made the colors seem more vivid, especially the bright orange construction sign.

I don’t think the rain ever stopped, which was fine with me. Very refreshing. Just a fine, steady drizzle–only a little more than a mist.

When I was done running, as I was walking through the tunnel of trees, I noticed a person perched up in a tree. Nestled in among the leaves, hovering above me, wedged in by the wooden fence. So strange. What were they doing there? Had a flash of panic, wondering if they would pounce on me, but they were content to stay hidden (and silent) in the tree.

I love how this poem is constructed entirely out of lines from a few different articles. I’d like to experiment with this form. Maybe something taken from the Mississippi River Gorge materials?http://sixthfinch.com/aylor1.html