I'm burning all my bridges

Richard & Linda Thompson's Hokey Pokey arrived in the mail yesterday and I quickly ripped it to my computer so that I could download it to my iPod and listen to it during my run. In a grave act of disobedience, my iPod froze up. Not only was I deprived of listening to my new purchase, I was deprived of listening to any music whatsoever. Ever since I extended my runs, I've always had the iPod playing. This was going to be interesting.

Almost immediately during the run, I was reminded how much I enjoyed the "silent" run. Very meditative. I remember reading an interview with Jeff Tweedy with him commenting on how nuts he thought people who ran with the accompaniment of music. And this coming from a musician. I see nothing wrong with having music playing - it can be a great motivator - but, in the end, I think there are greater benefits to be garnered without it. On the bike path, under the trees & padding softly on the pine needles, I felt blissful. It was so quiet. Sublime.

On the last leg of my run, I saw a football practice wrapping up. The kids, looked like a high school team, were running sprints. One kid lagged far behind. He was massive, sluggish, and was barely lifting his feet off the ground. Everyone was spread out in the end zone, waiting for him to reach them. I thought back to the years of organized sports I played and felt bad for this kid. He was the odd man out, the weakest link; not a good position to be in, especially when everyone is fatigued and wanting to wrap things up.

He reached mid-field, where one of the coaches stood. I listened for the tongue-lashing. It never came. Instead, the coach cheered him on. "You can do it, Miles. You got it." I was impressed, but still felt bad for him. Certainly the other players weren't going to be as forgiving. Again, my assumption was wrong. The entire line of players shouted their encouragement, hooped and hollered. "Come on, Miles! You own this! You the man!" Miles picked up his pace and reached the end zone. I thought that was pretty cool.

November will mark my fifth year of not smoking. I am so glad I quit that habit. Having some distance from it, I see how foul it is. The smell sticks to everything. I walked into my office the other day and it reeked of smoke. I asked Sharon if she smelled it. "It must be from Tim. He came in to get some coffee."

"When was that?", I asked.

"About an hour ago."

I was speaking with a friend recently about smoking and he equated it with suicide. I don't agree. Not entirely, anyway. I don't think smokers are trying to kill themselves. There are quicker methods. Suicidal people are usually looking for a quick, sure-fire, method of offing themselves. There's no guarantee that smoking will off you. I think it's safe to say that smokers are aware of the dangers of their habit, but convince themselves that they will not suffer them. It's always some other poor sap that gets cancer.

Smoking is an unconscious act. No one acting consciously would light up a cigarette. Believe me, I know this from experience. It took me years to finally become fed up being leashed to this vile, insidious habit. It is a real son of a bitch, to be sure. And more expensive than ever. Glad I quit when I did.
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Soon, soon, soon. I can't wait for the cloud to be lifted. I'm getting giddy just thinking about it.

With that, I'm off to watch some 30 Rock and then The Office.