Back on singletrack

Much of my winter was spent training for a road marathon, which became a half marathon thanks to the flu. I got sick in March and missed 3 critical long runs in a row. Next fall, I WILL get my flu shot, thankyouverymuch. To the point--running on asphalt is kind of boring. The race is over and I have a sparkly medal to send to my I Run4 buddy:

So now it's time to get back to the woods. There aren't any races on my radar so I can focus on gaining strength and maybe building up some speed.

I've missed running in the woods. This fact became more apparent this morning, when I woke up with part of a "song" about trail running in my head. Without further adieu, may I present:

An Ode to Trail Running (to the tune of America the Beautiful)

O beautiful for singletrack,

For random waves of pain,

For purple bruises on my knees

And mud and rocks and rain!

Trail running! Trail running!

My heart belongs to thee.

It feels so good to run through the woods-

We feel that we are free!

Maybe I'll see you out there!

#haiku

I have an Instagram account that I post to about as often as I post here. Except my Instagram posts include more poetry--haiku, specifically. This feels a little like cheating as far as blog posts go, but I thought I'd share a few of my instacritter posts with you:

Other chores await

But sleepy lap cat says no.

Chores will keep waiting.

  Why are we stopping?

I love hiking in the snow!

I don't like stopping.

A freaked out feline

Found at a local Goodwill.

Treasure left behind.

You know it's cold out

When the radiator sprouts

A fluffy cover.

Depression and Bacon

Grief + depression = massive amounts of "please can't I stay in bed today" (hint: no, you can't). One of these days I'll write a eulogy for my little cat baby, but this is not that day.  I'm still disoriented without her.  I've been depressed for so long that I alternate between actual depression, frustration with the continued depression, and sheer boredom with being depressed. 

Fairy Tale

Happiness.

Like a unicorn
or a dragon-

A rumor, a tale
of something that existed
Once upon a time,

A long time ago.

I feel like this unicorn really understands my poem...

Yeah, depression is pretty boring.  More interesting--this weekend I invented a new comfort breakfast.  My primal version of the cinnamon roll is a bacon-wrapped banana, which is exactly as awesome as it sounds.  Wind a piece of bacon around a peeled banana and bake it at 400F until the bacon is as done as you like--crispy bacon, gooey banana.  And it's easier to make than the cinnamon rolls you get in the can.  It's not particularly easy to share, though, so I created THIS:

Baked Bacon-nanas

1/2 lb bacon
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp allspice
1/4 tsp cardamom
1/8 tsp cloves
4-6 bananas, sliced
Butter

Place the bacon on a wire rack over a cookie sheet.  Bake at 400F for 15 minutes.  Cut into bite-sized pieces.  Butter an 8x8 baking dish and place banana slices in the bottom.  Combine the spices and sprinkle over the banana slices.  Scatter bacon pieces on top.  Bake at 375F for 10-15 minutes.  Enjoy!

Still pretty danged easy to make and very easy to share.  Or not, because you may be tempted to keep it to yourself.
 

Bad Poetry

Posting this feels a little like I'm barfing onto the computer screen.  I hope it's like a hairball--if I express the pain often enough, maybe I'll eventually get this mess out of my insides.  I've been trying to follow the old "fake it 'til you make it" advice, but how much longer do I have to keep faking it before I truly feel okay again?

Gone Missing

Why do I suddenly feel you?
Feel your solidity envelope me
At the same moment that I'm feeling so
Hollow.
Empty.
Alone.
How can I admit that I miss you
When I was the one who turned away?

Unhappy and trapped

By your black and white absolutes,

Now unhappy and confused

By my shifting grey haze.

Argh. I really wanted to finish that last line with "my own shifting shades of grey," but it brings to mind "Fifty Shades of Gray" which is not something I want associated with this poem.  Bleah.  Is this day over yet?

Bloody uphill climbs.

Critters

First Bunch of Critters:  Viruses.  There is some sort of cold/flu virus going around our area.  The symptoms aren’t particularly horrible but it leaves you feeling completely exhausted.  I was sick for at least 2 weeks, home from work for one of those weeks, and I’m still feeling pretty wimpy.  It thawed enough on Sunday for me to at least try to do some trail running, but it was more of a hike interspersed with a bit of jogging.  Baby steps.  Yuck.

Second Bunch of Critters:  Brain Chemicals.  Part of being sick and exhausted was an inability to ignore my seasonal depression.  My favorite technique for dealing with SAD is to simply be completely unaware of the depression.  I cruise along like a blindfolded tightrope walker, getting things done in spite of the yawning abyss below.  “Don’t look down” is my motto from January until May.  However, any real drain on my energy (see First Bunch of Critters above) makes it tough to maintain my forward momentum.  I’ve had a few really unpleasant days lately, but at least I got a decent poem out of it:

Just Before the Dawn

Lying awake
With a mouthful of the unsaid.
No tears, just a grey heart
And a vague wish for sleep
In the deep charcoal
Of 0dark:30

Yeesh.  Hey, don’t let that get you down—it’s just the winter blues, okay?  C’mon Spring!!

Third Bunch of Critters:  Adoptable Dogs and Cats.  In December, I started volunteering at a local no-kill shelter.  I had to skip a couple of weekends because of the bleeping virus, but I’m back on track now.  So far, the cats I have most wished to adopt have been adopted by someone else.  Bella is always relieved to hear that bit of news.  Since she is “allergic” to dogs, I won’t even consider adopting any of them.  I managed to talk a couple of friends into walking dogs with me on Sundays, just to get the poor critters out of the kennels (and some of them need real help learning to walk on a leash).  It’s not always fun or convenient, but I love playing/cuddling/giving treats after the work is over.  Doing this distracts me from my own whining.  It’s so comforting to see the cats settling down to happy naps once the cages are clean and fresh or to watch a dog relax into the back seat of the car after a good walk in the woods.

In looking for a poem that I’ve always used as inspiration for getting out of my own head, I found this blog post.  Go read it—it’s pretty short so I’m sure you have time.  It includes the poem as well as a couple of very good ideas:

• PTSD and depression can be tackled without medication, but not without reaching out to others...
• Happiness always follows a good deed, if only for a moment, but that's how we live anyway--moment to moment one day at a time.

“Do something for somebody, quick!”

Holiday Haiku

On Thanksgiving, I went for a solo run.  And it was surprisingly solo--there were all of 3 other people on the walk/run/bike trail by the river that afternoon.  Plus one very fluffy cat, who inspired this little poem:

Particular cat
Carefully sits on a rock.
Sun warms but breeze chills.

I hope everyone had just exactly the sort of holiday they were hoping for!

Almost missed it!

Yesterday was World Penguin Day--who knew?!  I didn't find out until the end of the day, but I quickly composed a poem for the occasion.  I'm sharing it with you so we'll be more prepared this time next year.

Oh, little penguin blue, 

Somewhere there's a mate for you. 

And if they ain't by your side this minute, 

It don't mean their heart's not in it. 

They could still text to say 

"I love you" on World Penguin Day.

Awww, little penguin blue...

Spring Will Come

Setting sun shines pink
Through clots of snow on bare trees.
Cherry blossom time!

They were wrong

Shane Koyczan is a powerful spoken word poet from Canada.  This is one of his pieces, and I'm sharing it with you because it made me get all emotional, and I'm not usually the weepy type.

You may have already seen this video as it's been posted on at least 2 blogs that I read, but just in case you missed it:

(sniffle)

Near/Far

You are so close to my heart

That I am continually surprised to find

My arms are empty.

Fledglings

Why wouldn't we wish to skip

From lovely smooth egg

To the swoop of feathered flight?

Baby birds are ugly.

First flight is awkward.

When the sages say

"The joy is in the journey"

They don't mention the hard parts.

Grandma Laughs

My grandmother now lives in a nursing home and (of course) she doesn’t particularly like it there.  Every couple of weeks, I mail her a card with something in it to keep her spirits up—origami, poetry, cool quotes.  Last week I was out of ideas, so I sent her a copy of MistyMorning Run.  Apparently, it made an impression……

I was a little leery about sending it because of one of the phrases.  I don’t recall my grandma using strong language (well, possibly once, but she was terribly provoked at the time) and I wasn’t sure how she would feel about my poem.  However, I was unable to find anything else I liked and I found the perfect background to print the poem on, so I sent it to her in spite of my concerns.  According to my aunt, it was a hit:

We went to see Grandma this afternoon.  We think she had just gotten your most recent card--we're not sure whether she had read it before, but we got it out and showed it to her anyway.  (One of the few blessings of dementia is that every moment is a new one and everything old is new again!) We read the card (silently) and then your poem.  All of a sudden she started to giggle a bit and her finger traced its way down the page to the line that began "You can kiss my ass, Cinderella..." which she read out loud and laughed with joy as she read it.  I smile now just thinking about it; it was a moment, for sure!  Thank you from all three of us!

How funny that the one thing I was worried about turned out to be the part that she enjoyed most.  This crazy old world just continues to surprise me.  I’m so glad I sent it, and doubly glad that my aunt took the time to let me know about grandma’s response.  I keep smiling, just picturing that scene.

Fool Number 1

Hope grabs me by the throat—

Stops my blood and my breath.

Your words strike chords that

Sound like sincerity.

I believe you.

I believe in you.

I believe you are astonishing.

Hope grabs me by the throat—

Stops my blood and my breath.

And when you drop me, I shatter. 

Yet somehow, you are also my glue.

Pieces.

Piece me together.

We’re a piece of work.

Hope grabs me by the throat—

Stops my blood and my breath.

Misty Morning Run

After months of heat,

The air is finally cool and damp.

Spider webs sparkle in the trees-

Woodland chandeliers.

Farther down the trail

Young barn spiders sit in rows

In their webs, lined up on fences

Like children in Sunday School.

The spiders and the runners

Are the only ones awake.

I rarely run so early.

My legs refuse to settle

Into their usual steady pace,

But I don’t mind-I’m busy gawking.

Halfway through mile two,

My shoes are already soaked.

I imagine the dew on my ankles

Looks like diamond-spangled socks.

“Kiss my ass, Cinderella,” I think

“but you’d have to catch me first.”

Reaching the halfway point,

I am feeling

Warmed up and steady.

The world is warming up with me.

The sun turns the mist white-gold,

Then disintegrates it.

High and far, the fog returns to the sky.

White clouds, blue peeking through.

The little old ladies run early.

And every one of them passes me.  My heroes.