Year: 2020

march 18/RUN

4.25 miles
top of franklin hill and back
38 degrees
77 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in MN

Another day, another great run by the gorge. Overcast. Earlier on my walk, it was drizzling but I think it stopped by the time I ran. Encountered lots of walkers, a few runners, some bikers. Many people are trying to keep their 6 feet of distance, others are not. If they can’t be bothered to move over when it’s recommended to help lessen the spread of a pandemic, I guess there’s no hope that they ever will. Felt pretty good running, even if I was a little warm and my nose was a bit runny–tried to avoid touching my face but it’s hard when you’re dripping sweat and snot (is that too gross?). I looked down at my favorite spot above the floodplain forest–so open and soft and light brown. Only a few patches of snow. Also looked at the river. Blue and beautiful. Running north towards downtown, I listened to the gorge and recited “Auto Lullaby” and “Tell all the truth but tell it slant” a few times. Heard at least one goose honking, some people talking, a few feet shuffling. Stopped just above the Franklin hill and put in my headphones, then headed south. Running under the trestle I heard a beeping, buzzing noise. Was it the alert for an approaching train? I looked around, but couldn’t see any train. Decided not to stop and wait. Anything else I remember? Greeted Dave, the Daily Walker. Felt dreamy and dazed. Glad to forget everything else for 40 minutes.

the woodpecker

Earlier today, walking with Delia the dog, I heard a woodpecker. It might be the same one I heard a few days ago, around the same time and same place. So loud! Almost like a little jackhammer. Usually, any woodpecker pecking is loud, but not this loud. How irritating it must be for the people with houses nearby. When I was 8 or 9 and living in North Carolina in a house with cedar shakes, we had a woodpecker who liked to peck on the cedar. I don’t remember hearing it, I just remember how irritated it made my dad. Did he do anything about it? I don’t remember that either.

After memorizing one Emily Dickinson poem, I want to memorize some more. I’ll start with some shorter ones, like this, which seems appropriate right now:

“Faith” is fine invention (202)/ Emily Dickinson

Faith” is a fine invention
For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency!

corona virus update

Yesterday all the schools were closed. So were the restaurants and bars. Thankfully, we can still leave our house. I went to bed yesterday accepting that this would probably end by June, woke up to Pence’s announcement that it would last until July. When I mentioned this to Scott, he said he’d read, early fall. It’s definitely going to get a lot worse for the next month at least. Trying to keep Scott’s penchant for worst case scenarios in check, the theme for our house is: “Let’s dial back the Apocalypse.”

march 17/RUN

4.35 miles
minnehaha falls and back
35 degrees
60 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in MN

Decided to turn to the right at the river today. More people on the trail. Lots of moving way over to the right to keep a safe distance. Ran to the falls and stopped to watch it tumble over the cliff, then ran, taking the lower, Winchell Trail when it began just past 44th street.

1

Added one more part of the walking trail today: the steep, uneven trail that dips down right after the double bridge and then rises up again. Up until last year this was an extra spur with the regular walking path up above right next to the biking path, a solid white line separating them. But when they repainted the lines, they added an arrow directing walkers to follow this spur instead of staying above. A mistake by the painters? Possibly. Probably. Initially, I was mad because this spur is steep, narrow, and full of ruts, but I’ve grown to like the challenge of trying to stay upright on it and dipping below the road and into some trees.

2

Oh, the lower trail was beautiful today! Nothing between me and the river but a wrought iron fence and a steep cliff (or ledge? or bluff?). At its edges, the river was brown but in the middle, blue. It looked much warmer than it was.

3

At one point on the lower trail, as it hugged the edge, it looked like if I kept running straight, I could run off the bluff and fly over the water.

4

So much wonderful sun! Lots of dead, yellowed leaves covering the trail. It felt like fall in Virginia, when I was twelve. Will I never not be nostalgic for fall?

5

Said “Good morning Dave” to the Daily Walker. Smiled at a few other runners. Raised my right hand in a wave to a few others. Wasn’t always able to keep a safe 6 feet of distance, but I tried.

march 16/RUN

4.25 miles
top of the franklin hill and back
35 degrees
snow, big fluffy flakes

Feeling a bit better today. Wonderful and strange to be outside, trying to avoid encounters with others while breathing in the beautiful fresh air. Dark and gloomy. It started snowing just after I got outside. At first, very light. Then, big fluffy flakes flying right into my face–I should have worn my baseball cap or visor to block them out. Oh well. The snow didn’t bother me too much although I wondered if it was the best idea to be outside with a cold or sinus infection in this weather. I think it’s fine. It feels important to get out by the gorge as much as I can.

Was able to do all the walking trails, including the one through the tunnel of trees which is not a tunnel right now but a bunch of bare branches and trunks. The floodplain forest was a beautiful, fuzzy brown. I know I glanced at the river but I don’t remember what color it was or how it looked. I think that’s because of all the snow flying in my face. The gorge was a misty, blurry white. Encountered a few walkers, one or two runners, and Dave the Daily Walker, back in uniform! I’m glad he’s feeling better.

I remember admiring the railroad trestle as I ran by it, noticing the river below. Also, glancing at the Winchell Trail, close to Franklin. The trail looked like a muddy mess.

Memorized a new poem for today’s run:

Tell all the truth but tell it slant/ Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lie
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightening to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—

It was fun to recite this over and over again as I ran. I really love Emily Dickinson’s poetry–her phrasing, the rhymes, the rhythm, the ideas. I think (I don’t know that much about Emily Dickinson right now–maybe I should learn?) this is one of her more famous poems, especially the idea of telling the truth slant. I like it because of how it fits with my vision. I read that Dickinson became blind temporarily for a few years and that she wrote about it in her poetry. With my cone dystrophy, I rely much more on my peripheral (sideways, slantways?) vision to see. And, while I need bright light to see and read things, if the light is too bright it makes it almost impossible to see. Also, my unfocused, fuzzy vision is softer and less harsh, which sometimes results in kinder, more gentle visions–things that might look ugly in sharp edges and lines, appear beautiful in the soft, fuzzy, absence of detail (one example: gnarled, bare branches in the winter).

march 15/WALKBIKE

Decided to take a break from running today and do some more walking and indoor biking. Walked with Scott and Delia the dog this morning and experienced the delight of the day: walking high up on the grassy hill between edmund boulevard and west river parkway, we saw an animal running across the grass below us. I thought it was probably a dog, so I looked for its owner. Scott could see it was a coyote. Before it crossed the river road, it looked both ways. Smart! It’s not uncommon to see coyotes near the river but I’ve never seen one and I bet it’s unusual to see them in the middle of the morning (10:00 am) and in the midst of so many people and cars.

Critters I’ve seen near the river

  • duck
  • goose
  • mouse
  • squirrel
  • heron and/or white crane
  • bald eagle
  • turkey vulture
  • crow (or raven?)
  • woodpecker
  • possum
  • beaver
  • raccoon
  • chipmunk
  • wild turkey
  • rabbit
  • muskrat
  • deer
  • fox
  • coyote

I’m probably missing a few. And, of course, there are many more birds that I’m not mentioning. This might not seem like a big list, but I think it’s a lot considering the gorge is right in the middle of Minneapolis and St. Paul.

more songs for washing hands

The theme song from Alice:

Early to rise, early to bed
In and between I cooked and cleaned and went out of my head.
Going through life with blinders on it’s tough to see.
I had to get up, get out from under and look for me.
There’s a new girl in town.

The theme song from Dukes of Hazard (which is a little slow, but it’s worth washing your hands a little longer to finish it, I think):

Just the good old boys
never meaning no harm
Beats all you ever saw
been in trouble with the law
since the day they were born.

Flattening the hills
straightening the curve
someday the mountain might get them
but the law never will

march 14/RUN

2.4 miles
two trails
26 degrees

Colder today. Such wonderful fresh air! Took Delia the dog out for a walk and decided I needed to do a short run too. Beautiful beside the gorge. Here are some highlights:

1

Running south towards the falls, I encountered a group of 10+ male runners. I think they were on a team–not sure if it was high school or college or even older. They were all very fit and lean. Watching their legs strike down and lift off in unison, they looked like horse legs. A trot of runners! Such a strange and cool sight–perhaps it looked stranger and cooler to me, with my dreamy, unfocused vision?

2

The river was a beautiful blue with hints of white. Not gray or grayish blue but blue.

3

I was able to add another path that is closed all winter: the Winchell Trail! Because I didn’t want to run as much today, I decided to do one of my favorite summer routes: the two trails. I ran to the 44th street parking lot, right before the double bridge, and then turned down towards the river to the entrance of the Winchell Trail. Beautiful and clear! Only a few slick spots between Folwell and 38th. Loved running this and imagining it warmer and less pandemic-y. I didn’t encounter anyone else on this trail, not even a dog or a squirrel. Wait–I do remember noticing a big bird flying overhead, not too high off of the ground. An eagle? A hawk? I’m rarely sure.

4

Heard a slow trickle from the first sewer pipe, near some old stone steps that lead up to the 44th street parking lot. Running above it earlier this week, I didn’t notice it.

5

The sun was behind the cloud covered grayish white sky, but I could see it was trying to pierce through. It glowed a dull, muted white in the sky. I was happy to have it hidden and not hurting my eyes.

6

Crowded today. Lots of walkers and runners. I think there was at least one biker. No roller skiers yet.

Still feeling sick and learning to manage the stress of not quite knowing what it is and feeling uncomfortable with the pressure in my head and a tight jaw. Maybe a sinus infection or a strange cold or a bacterial infection? [Googling it.] A sinus infection, I think. Nothing to do now but wait for it to be over. I don’t get sick that often and I’m realizing that I don’t handle it very well–especially sicknesses where I can’t breathe quite as easily because of the pressure in my head and cheeks and jaw and where I feel trapped in my body. This unfortunate truth is getting magnified by a present that is uncertain and a future that will get better but not before it gets worse. Usually, I either try to avoid difficult confrontations (with people, with pain, with situations of suffering) or get out of them as quickly as I can with the power of distraction or avoidance or positive spin. These strategies will not work now. I guess I need to confront it, live through it, and allow myself to be transformed by it. And, what all do I mean by it–maybe I’ll try to shape that into a poem? (note: Normally, I leave these sorts of emotions out of this log–they often seem ridiculous or overwrought or too exposing. But, I’m writing this log for future Saras who will read this tomorrow or next week or next year and I want them to know that I was feeling more than just joy at the beauty of the river and delight at the sight of a group of runners looking as graceful and strong as galloping horses.)

how to count to 20 while washing your hands

I stopped looking at twitter a few days ago, when I couldn’t handle reading about how bad the situation in Italy is and how bad it might get here, but before I stopped I enjoyed seeing the tweets about what to sing while you wash your hands for 20 seconds. I love the creativity–so much better than just counting to 20 or singing Happy Birthday twice! I’ve been experimenting with my own playlist of songs to sing. Only 2 so far. I started with “Eye of the Tiger” and a verse and the first line of the chorus “It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight…” Then, today, I thought about the 1971 Oompa Loompa song for Veruca:

Who do you blame
when your kid is a brat,
pampered and spoiled
like a Siamese cat?

Blaming the kid
is a lie and a shame.
You know exactly
who’s to blame

The Mother and the Father!

Next up is the Mike Teevee version!

What do you get
from a glut of TV–
a pain in the neck
and an IQ of 3?

Why don’t you simply
try reading a book,
or could you just not bear to look?

You’ll get no
You’ll get no
You’ll get no commercials.

Oompa Loompa

march 13/RUN

3.25 miles
trestle turn around
32 degrees

A beautiful day for a run! A cloudless blue sky and a clear path. It feels so important to be outside, breathing fresh air. I’ve been struggling with a minor cold (which is almost definitely not corona virus) and being sick during this pandemic is causing uncomfortable waves of anxiety. A throat that wants to close up, a clenched jaw, the need for deep breaths, a rush of tingling heat on the back of my head, and even more restlessness–lots of pacing around the house yesterday. Running seems to help. I feel okay when I run, relaxed.

Added another clear walking path to my route–my favorite trail that dips below the road and winds above the floodplain forest! I didn’t run it on the way out, only on the way back. So wonderful to have it clear. I’ll have to check my old log entries, but I probably haven’t run this trail since sometime in November (I checked and my last day was Nov 26th).

When I reached the trestle, I took a short break and admired the clear, open river. Oh, the river! So wonderful. Brown, I think. When the sun hit it, it was sparkling silver or was it white gold? Marveled at it several times: above the rowing club, near the double bridge, above the forest. Running south through my favorite trail, the river glowed through the bare trees.

When I finished, I walked to the overlook and breathed it all in: the bare, brown branches, the wide open gorge, the brown river with the wide sparkling stripe of sun. Then I looked down at the ravine, noticing how exposed it was and how slick and icy the trail heading up the hill looked.

Greeted Dave the Daily Walker. At first I didn’t recognize him because he wasn’t walking fast and swinging his arm and he was wearing a coat. He said, “I’m not in my uniform today; I have a bad cold and I’m just out here trying to get some fresh air.” I hope he’s okay and doesn’t have the corona virus. Dave is one of my favorite people.

possible exercise: an acrostic poem that casts a spell?

When I searched for “fun spell-like poems” (of course, I didn’t find any), several of the results were about acrostic poems. Yes! Acrostic poems spell words. I wondered, can you create an acrostic poem that casts a spell of some sort? What would that look like? I’m not sure yet, but I wanted to make note of it to try out later today or this week or sometime.

march 12/RUN

4.25 miles
minnehaha falls and back
42 degrees
light drizzle

Didn’t check the weather to see if it was planning to rain before I left the house, but the minute I got outside I could tell it was coming. I went running anyway. Turned right at the river, heading towards the falls. I love the quiet, gray gloom. It would have been even better if there had been fog. Recited the poem “Auto-lullaby” most of the time.

Some Things I Remember

  1. Heard some kids at a school playground, yelling and having fun
  2. Not too much snow at the oak savanna. From the parking lot at 36th street, the hill down to the Winchell Trail looks so bare and exposed
  3. Forgot to check out my favorite spot–where the mesa curves down to reveal the river
  4. I’m not sure when it started raining, but I’m pretty sure it was before I turned around at the falls
  5. Was able to run on at least 2 more walking trails that were no longer covered in snow: the trail that curves around the back of the double bridge parking lot and the small, steep hill, just past the double bridge
  6. the falls were gushing. I saw two other people there, admiring it
  7. minnehaha creek, at the part just before it flows over the edge, was a beautiful gray blue, mostly open with a small shelf of ice and snow
  8. Running under the Ford Bridge I encountered another runner on the other side of the wide trail. He called out something that I couldn’t quite hear. At first I thought he said, “I’m running for the corona virus” then “I’m running with the corona virus.” But after talking to Scott, I’m pretty sure he jokingly said, “I’m running from the corona virus.”
  9. Running north, into the wind and the rain I wondered, is it good to be out here in this? Actually, I didn’t mind it–I like running in the rain. I just don’t want to get sick(er)
  10. No woodpeckers or geese (although I did hear some geese earlier in the morning). No squirrels or bikers or dogs

Yesterday I was thinking about how you cast a shadow and cast a spell and how fun it would be to play around with that and the word cast and then I remembered a poem I read last year.

TO CAST/ Yesenia Montilla

I.
The question is always posed at a party
            If you were a cast away on a deserted island
                        who would  you want to          hold?

& the penny is hurled in the air
we are for eternity torn between a face                       & a tail —

& we fall into one of two categories
            those who cast spells               & those that cast things aside

love may not be discarded       but shipwrecked          yes

& so on —

II.
I’ve only been fly fishing once             it is something quite stunning
            the way the string dances above your head like wild imaginings
the striking of nylon against the pebbled water

the lure with its many colors dangling just above the wake
glistening like booty    & the fish come           if you’re silent

knee deep in Oshun’s river :: rubber against the skin :: lips slack from trying

III.
                        I want to hold              you —
If tomorrow the lush green of an island were my only dress
It’d be                                                  you —

IV.
Every four years I cast a                                  vote
                        & I might die anyway
                                                regardless of the outcome —

1. to throw or hurl, fling :: to throw off or away :: to direct (the eye, a glance, etc), especially in cursory manner :: to cause to fall upon something or in certain directions; send forth :: to draw, as in telling fortunes :: to throw out (a fishing line, net, bait, etc.) :: to fish in (a stream, an area, etc.) :; to throw down or bring to the ground 

I love this line:

& we fall into one of two categories
those who cast spells & those that cast things aside

march 11/RUN

4.25 miles
river road, north/south
36 degrees

Gray and calm outside. Nice to get some fresh air. Almost all the paths are clear. Thought about trying to run on the path that dips below the road and winds through the trees, but decided it would still have too much ice. I was right. Greeted Dave the Daily Walker just after running up the hill from under the lake street bridge. I know I saw the river but I don’t remember what it looked like. Did I ever really look at it? Heard a woodpecker pecking away. I wonder, is it a yellow bellied sapsucker? Listened to some of its sounds, like drum #1 and mew call and drums, and it might be. Later, when I was almost done with my run, I heard another woodpecker, not sure if it was the same kind. Sounded like a small jackhammer, which made me start thinking about my fascination with how machines mimic animals (for example, airplanes always remind me of sharks).

This morning, after I got up, I decided to memorize a poem to make myself feel better. I have a cold or allegories or something and my throat is tightening up, which is making me extra uncomfortable and worried as I read about people testing positive for the corona virus here. It’s amazing how memorizing a poem can make me feel better. Today, I re-memorized one of my classics: Auto-lullaby by Franz Wright.

Auto-lullaby/ Franz Wright

Think of a sheep
knitting a sweater;
think of your life

getting better and better.

Think of your cat
asleep in a tree;
think of that spot
where you once skinned your knee.

Think of a bird
that stands in your palm.
Try to remember
the Twenty-First Psalm.

Think of a big pink horse
galloping south;
think of fly, and
close your mouth.

If you are thirsty, then
drink from a cup.
The birds will keep singing
until they wake up.

Oh, I love this poem. It was a fun (and sometimes challenging) one to recite in my head as a ran. It was interesting to see how the meter worked differently and how I recited it to make it fit with my cadence. It helps to pick poems with rhymes–I have also memorized/recited Shel Silverstein’s “Sick.” How hard would it be to recite a poem with no rhyme or meter? Would I force it into a meter? Maybe I should try that.

possible exercise: reciting while running

Step One || Pick a poem.

Start with an “easier” poem–one that rhymes and isn’t too long, like a kid’s poem. Later, try a “harder’ poem that doesn’t have a meter or rhymes or is longer.

Step Two || Memorize it.

A few hours before running, spend some time memorizing it.

Step Three || Recite it while running.

Once you’ve warmed up, begin reciting the poem in your head (or, if you feel comfortable enough, out loud). At first, just focus on trying to recite it without stopping or without screwing up too much. Later, when you’ve mastered that, start paying attention to how the words do or don’t match up with cadence. If you are trying to sync it up with your steps and breathing, how does this affect the poem–it’s meaning? how it sounds? how it moves (or doesn’t move)?

Step Four || Take notes.

After your run, take some notes about the experience of reciting while running. What effects did reciting have on your running? Running on your reciting?