Category Archives: Swimming

Swimming and Running and Working…

Oh, my!

On Tuesday night I swam for the first time in a long time. I have been swimming recently, but I haven’t done a real swim–if you can call 2000 yards a real swim–for several years. When I first hopped into the water, I was a little uncertain about the outcome of the evening. To say the least, when I figured out that I could still swim a 500 in under ten minutes, I was completely shocked! I did kicks, pulls, and some straight-up swimming. I started off with a little warm-up and then swam two, 500-yard crawls, then I switched it up with some kicking and pulling, before easing out of the pool with a small cool down. It felt good. My body remembered the water, the motion, the groove.

When I came into class tonight, one of my students, Stephanie, told me that she saw me at the pool on Tuesday. She was in the lane next to mine. I have to say that she is faster than I am, but I am not ashamed because I am 35-fucking-years-old and S-L-O-W. But, I am going again tonight.

*

I woke up this morning before the sun and ran my four miles. It was only 45 degrees when I got up, and the leaves blanketed the sidewalks and roads with their crunchiness. I warmed up to a sweat pretty quickly and was glad that I had opted to leave the long-sleeved shirt in the house. For the first two miles, my legs felt stiff and uncooperative, but then I settled into my pace for the third mile. For some reason my last mile is always hard, but I continually pull through.

This morning the fall weather helped because I was on my own quest for solace and rejuvenation. As I began I prayed for a moment, asking for quiet and peace. I was given leaves. Every fall I am given leaves, and I accept them graciously as God’s own gift to me. I realize in my heart of hearts that God didn’t make the beauty of fall just for me, but I like to fantasize that [They] might have, especially when the leaves crunch and the wind blows and the sun rises up slowly, softly over the river.

I used to think that the sunrise was the only good thing about getting up early, and, realistically, it wasn’t good enough for me to get out of bed on a regular basis. In the past few weeks, though, I have realized that the sunrise is the first good thing about getting up early. The second is the silence of the morning. Particularly on Saturday and Sunday, at 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning there are no cars or other people. When I get up that early, I have the birds, the breeze in the tress, the animals scurrying along the river bank, and the occasional dog barking in a yard to myself. I don’t have to share it with anyone else. Third, there is a certain level of peace that hovers over Muncie in the dark, in the quiet. There is a presence of God’s greatness that exists undisturbed. And, it is beautiful. It gives me peace.

I run my first road-race, a 10K, on October 10. It is called Soles to Souls and part of my entry fee will be refunded if I donate gently used shoes that will be distributed to those in need. My second race, a 5-mile trail race, will be on November 1 in Anderson, and I will run with Adam and William. I hope I can finish it, because I have heard that it kicks your ass.

*

Work is going well. I take my oral exams next Friday, September 25 at 10 AM. I am nervous, but I think I will be fine.

It’s Been a Long Time…

…been a long time, been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time. Sure has. Nothing like a little led Zeppelin to get the day going. I am not sure I even really like Led Zeppelin, but I like this song even though I have never really understood what it was about. It’s amazing that I could listen to a song a million times, at every high school dance (the three I went to) and on the radio, and never really get the lyrics.

I suppose it hasn’t really been lonely, but it has been a long time since I have written anything. So much has happened since the last time I wrote, it seems like light years since I went to Michigan, since Merideth got engaged, since I took my comprehensive exams, since Jacob spent two weeks at our house and taught me to love disc golf, and since Dave, the little man who is fixing our house, started fixing our house.

Because so much has been going on, I feel a little life-vertigo, like no matter where I put my foot down, it will be the wrong location and everything might come toppling down. I am not saying this to sound dramatic, I just feel a bit disoriented. I don’t, however, feel stressed, though I must be because I woke up yesterday with this kink in a muscle in my back. Today it was worse. While we were walking the dogs this morning, Bec said that I have the most amazing ability to somatize my stress. I do. I would much rather have a sore muscle than to have some deadly illness like I had last winter.

I started running last winter with the intention of finishing the mini-marathon in Indy, but I got so sick I couldn’t keep running. My lungs were pissed and they were having no part of my exercising in the cold air. Well, I since have started running again, and I am up to running 4 miles at a 12-minute mile pace. I say that’s not too shabby for a fat kid. I was supposed to run this morning, but when I woke up at 5:30, it was dark outside so I slept until 6:30 and walked the dogs.

Since the last time I posted, I have taken a Nazarite Vow that will end when my dissertation is finished. I took it on my birthday, July 22, by shaving my head and spending the day relaxing and contemplating the parameters of the vow. I amended the original Jewish vow, so I am not only following it, but I also added some things of my own. For the next year and a half to two years, I am abstaining from anything containing grapes, wine, or raisins, all alcohol, cutting my hair, eating meat, caffeine, sugary foods. In the same time period, it is my goal to walk at least 5 miles each day, which can include the morning run.  I plan to start swimming three times a week next week, as well. It is also my goal to run a marathon before I turn 40. So far, I am doing pretty well with my goals, and I have been managing quite well abstaining. The side-perk is that I have lost 30-35 pounds.

I feel all rusty and weird writing. I am having a hard time being articulate and creative without feeling like I am forcing it. I guess this is why every writing book, every writer, says that writing should be something that we do every day. I suppose, too, I should actually write about the things I mentioned in the first paragraph, which is typically what one does when setting up a piece of writing. Introduction: body: conclusion.

I should start off by talking about my vacation with Merideth’s family. We stayed at Little Bear Lake Hideaway, and the lake was beautiful. I swam across it, kayaked around it, and ran or walked the road that circled it every day we were there. One day I even went around twice. Usually I was the first one up and out of the cabin, so I got to see the water all quiet and smooth before anyone else was awake to see it. The water was a clear green, and I could see my feet when I was standing up to my neck in the water. The water was also incredibly cold. Very cold. Numbingly cold.

The days went by quickly, too quickly. I could actually live up there on a lake if I could find a job that would sustain me. We went to Gaylord, the closest fairly large town, three times and ate lunch at three decent diners. We went to Lewiston and ate at Talley’s Bar, and Merideth and I went to a little bar by the Outpost for coffee while Josh got Merideth’s clothes ready to go to Mackinac Island.

On Wednesday, we went to the island, and all day Merideth kept talking about wishing she could stay at the Grand Hotel. Finally, when the kids got tired, we walked up to the hotel and pretended we were all going to look at the porch. Little did she know, but Merideth and Josh were staying at the hotel. And, she also didn’t know he was going to propose to her. He did, and she said yes. They are getting married next June 5, and I am performing their wedding on a beach in Florida.

When I got back from Michigan, Bec’s nephew, Jacob, came and stayed with us for two weeks. We painted the outside of the house, which still is not completed, and we pulled up the carpet in the downstairs. We had tons of good conversation, and Jacob cooked dinner for us a few times. The best part of his stay were his disc golf lessons.

Nearly every afternoon, Jacob and I walked down to McCullough Park and pitched some discs. For an hour and a half or so each day, we just chilled and threw discs … and occasionally went poo-diving. Poo-diving happens when someone throws a disc into the drainage channel that runs along the edge of the course. We call the channel, the poo channel, because it is one of the ones that may or may not contain sewage when the storm sewers overflow. I only had to go poo-diving once, but Jacob had to go several times. Yum.

Jacob and I removed the carpet from the downstairs while Dave, the little man that is fixing and rewiring our house, redid the ceiling in the living room. About two weeks ago, he told us that it would only take a couple more days to finish the work, but I think he bit off more than he thought he was biting off with our rewiring. It has been a huge project and most of it had to happen through the uninsulated attic, so for a few days he couldn’t do much because of the intense heat. I can tell you, though, that I am ready for it to be finished, so we can start putting our house back to normal. I want to bring my couch in from the porch.

I took my comps last week and will know by Labor Day whether or not I passed. I am not confident that I did. The hard part about thinking that I may have failed is that I also got a job teaching American Literature at Burris one period a day. If I don’t pass my comps, I don’t get to teach at Burris next semester. If I don’t get to teach there next semester, I lose my foot in the door. And, I want to teach middle school English there next year! I keep trying, in the spirit of my Nazarite vow, to let God be in control and to trust what [They] are doing, but that is so hard for me. It is hard for me to realize that I am not in control, that God is.

I suppose another major event in my life is that my pastor is leaving. Last Sunday was his last Sunday to speak. I was fine until at the end of his message he remarked that he had been at our church for five years, and that it had been a good five years. Then I cried. I cried pretty hard through the last worship set, and then again once it was over. Of course, he came over and harassed me, when I was reading my book to stop myself from crying more, by singing, “I have my books and my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island.” It’s true, but I am trying to become less of a rock, less of an island. I am trying hard to let people in. I suppose that is why my back has a huge knot in it.

A Vacation in Michigan

This next week I am going to be in Michigan with my best friend’s family. Merideth and I are more like sisters than we are friends, so I am sure we will get into at least one fight. With that aside, I am excited because we get to go to Mackinac Island and I have never been there before, so this will be a whole new experience, and I am interested to see how things work without cars. I have heard stories, but I finally get to see it with my own eyes. I will get to run around the lake, so that should be fun, too. I mean, not to mention the swimming, softball, trivial pursuit, cards, and s’mores! Whoo-hoo!

I am supposed to be packing right now, but I think I am going to write here, then couch surf for a minute, then run. I also have to sew some things today. I don’t like packing because it means I have to go away, but it has to be done. Eight days is a long time to be gone. I have never been gone for more than six or (rarely) seven days at stretch, which is enough time to leave Bec struggling with all the pets by herself. I think she likes her alone-time, though, so it is a good trade-off. Pets and alone-time. I suppose when I get back she will have done some home improvement like she usually does.

A Conglomeration of Magnanimous Proportions

Today I had two more beers on the quest o’ beers. I had Hoppin’ Frog‘s Gulden Fraug Belgian Ale. Gulden Fraug wasn’t nearly as Belgian as Gulden Draak, but it was still tasty. And had a lot of alcohol. I wouldn’t mind trying their porter, but I don’t think the Heorot has it. In fact, they have been out of several of their good porters the past few times I have been there.

I also had a wheat ale, whose name I can’t spell. It was soft and sweet, like a new lover. Unsullied. Crisp. I was surprised because I usually abhor wheat beers. Every day is a new day.

The quality time spent with the Nathans and Stephanie was well worth not remembering the name of one of my new loves.

*

Last night I went to watch my brother coach. He continually amazes me with his compassion and sweet spirit. Where I am all abrasive and in your face, he is laid back and kind. I guess we compliment each other like that.

There were no diving catastrophes despite the few reverses that were attempted. They were all completed with room to spare. There were no Greg Louganis moments.

I stayed to watch the entire meet, and I remembered why I loved swimming in high school. I love that coaches and spectators alike yell at the meets. When you are under water, you can’t hear. Try it. I wish I could replicate the sound here. But I can’t.

Maybe try turning the stereo way up. Put your fingers in your ears, then take them out. Then put them in; then take them out. Do this over and over again for a minute and a half or so, and you will know what it sounds like to swim the hundred-yard butterfly or breaststroke.

Now leave the stereo on. Go into another room and cup your hands tightly around your ears. Wiggle your fingers around and listen to your skin rub against itself while still trying to listen to the music. This is swimming freestyle. You cannot hear the words. You only know that someone, somewhere is yelling for you.

And backstroke? You might as well buy some industrial strength ear plugs. Back strokers can only hear their own most secret inner thoughts.

Each time someone went off the block, I could feel my adrenaline rise. I wanted to be competing. I think the reason I was so well adjusted in high school was my focus on athletic competition. I wasn’t so interested in academic prowess, though I got the job done, because I was interested in pushing my body to its physical limits.

I need that again. I need to feel my body pushing through the slick water, propelling along by the power of my hands and feet. I want to be a human submarine, diving and cutting and slipping past the enemy.

In truth I am slow. This is me swimming:pig_swimming

I do not cut. I do not dive. I do not slip past the enemy.

I sort of bob along with my arms moving and my legs kicking. But it’s therapeutic and athletic. And not really so much like a pig in water.

*

Today I jogged/walked four miles. It took about an hour.

See? I am SLOW. But I did it. I finished. And that is where I am. On finishing.

I would like to finish anything: the mini-marathon, coursework, reading the Bible all the way through. Really, some sense of completion would be healthy.

I’d like to be done.

Diving. Scheduling. And Ginsberg.

Tonight I am going to watch high school diving. My brother coaches. I love diving and I hate it. The beauty of it intrigues me. The danger of it undoes me. And, I despise those few second between the leap and the landing: reverses are the worst.

Even Greg Louganis, the world’s best diver at the time, cracked his head doing a reverse. Of course, he went on to win both the spring board and the platform competition that year. The dive that actually won the platform competition for him was a reverse dive. Irony.

I think I have an aversion to reverse dives because I saw someone land on the board trying to complete one. She didn’t get hurt, but I was afraid in that split-second that she would break her neck. Possibly I was afraid she would fall from the board into the pool and drown, surrounded by life guards too stunned to move.

*

Last semester, I didn’t have room to breathe. This semester, I can’t seem to get on a schedule. I read next week’s assignment this week, and didn’t remember to do this week’s assignment. Having too much time is sometimes worse than not having enough.

*

Finally, I will leave you with this, some of my favorite Ginsberg from Howl:

who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,

who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and some eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake, …