Statistics

Diseases of the Heart

Every day
thousands of us succumb.
Statistically, thirty-five percent of all deaths,
though it seems like so many more.
Self-diagnosed since high school,
since Donna really.
My diet doesn’t matter…
doesn’t alter the odds.

Sideyard

Unearthed sheaf of paper
from between books bound
for storage somewhere unseen.
Divorce is displacing them,
delivered behind rolling metal doors
and bulletproof locks.

A poem, then
discovered today
in a hand I recognize and
a voice that seemed resigned
to realize
that once in a lifetime trips
came far too often for my wife
even then
what continent was she on without me?

A poem about a load of dirt left at the side of the house.
Placed there by the shovel load
with no other place to go.
We moved it from one side to the other
farthest from the gate,
years before.

This:

Now it is not much of anything really.
A dirt path alongside the house.
I planted some things there once,
roots I thought might know the soil
Spread some pebbles too
from an unknown river.
Watered occasionally.

Amazing things really:
dirt, water, sun.

That sideyard could deal with neglect.
I spent more time there than most anywhere else
in that house.

I had cleared it
over the course of two nights
Scoop by scoop
Into the pickup truck
and to the town dump
alone.

Red Oil Can

The owner's manual for my 1997 Corolla is long gone.

But I don't need it to know what that flashing oil can in the dashboard means.

It would probably tell me something like "check the level of oil by using the dipstick" or "change the oil" or "take car in for service immediately."

I know what it really means.

"Take control of your life."

"Get your priorities straight."

"Pedal."

"You should have saved more money in your thirties."

"Stop."

Pomona Valley Sunday

By the time it was all over, it was Sunday morning.
Father's Day.
My nineteen year old daughter and I had just seen a remarkable show from a vantage point made possible by general admission and our arriving at the renovated Fox Theatre over 4 hours before Wilco took the stage.

We were in the second row, behind a family of some preteens who were up way past bedtime. How did that nine year old know the words to "Passenger Side" or "California Stars" let alone "Hate it Here?" She came early to the show as well, clutching her vinyl copy of "Sky Blue Sky" which I am sure left the theater with Jeff Tweedy's signature. When Tweedy yelled out "you guys are awesome!" some folks in the beautiful old Fox may have thought he was talking to the crowd in general. We knew better. Even though earlier in the evening Tweedy had warned that we might be watching the end of an era (turned out one of the band members was turning 40) and his guitar gave out during "Impossible Germany," he couldn't help but be joyous watching these young kids enjoy Wilco's music so much. Brought out the father in him.

Wilco has never sounded so tight, so on, so right.

When Tweedy came off the stage and handed this group of kids some picks and told them to strum his guitar during "Spiders" it was truly a magical moment. One that those youngsters will never forget. One that my daughter and I won't forget either. Happy Father's Day, Jeff.


Wilco at the Fox Theater, Pomona, June 20, 2009
Main set
Wilco (the song)
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart
Blue Black Nova
You Are My Face
One Wing
A Shot in the Arm
Radio Cure
Impossible Germany
(with super-long Nels Cline guitar solo as Jeff Tweedy’s guitar gives out and has to be swapped)
Deeper Down (its live debut)
Pick Up the Change
Can’t Stand It
Jesus, Etc.
Hate It Here
You Never Know
Theologians
Walken
I’m the Man Who Loves You
Hummingbird

First encore
Passenger Side
California Stars
Misunderstood (41 NOTHINGs at the end, plus Tweedy singing Happy Birthday to You to Pat Sansone, who turned 40 Saturday)
Spiders (Kidsmoke)

Second encore
Crowd sings Happy Birthday to You to Pat
Kingpin
Monday
Hoodoo Voodoo

Contact

Why blog?

This is not my diary. If it were, people inclined to read my words here would have suffered through my sorrow, perhaps been elevated by my joy, too. But I blog for me.

Selfish jerk.

Can't put everything here. But for now, I would like to mark in cyberspace this date, the day I began officially training for the 2009 Chicago Marathon. A 26.2 mile run through the neighborhoods of my beautiful birthplace city. Looking at the course, I am relieved to find that I will pass by Wrigley Field early, while I still have the energy to sneer at its quaintness. On the other hand, US Cellular comes deep into the course, about mile 23 when the lights above 35th and Shields will power me to finish. My beloved White Sox. I hope games are still being played there on October 11.

So how does one begin to prepare for a marathon yet 16 weeks away? An easy run. 4 miles. If I can keep to the plan, which may actually be more difficult than executing on race day, I will log over 400 miles in the months ahead.

I am committed.

Between this post and my last I ran my first half marathon (in my current fair city). Ran it in 1:47. Also, ran my favorite 5Ks in April, May, and June including running "the world's fastest 5K" in Carlsbad in 22:19, my personal best for 5Ks. Attempted a triathlon (albeit a mini one) and found out that I can't swim. On my Father's Day card this year (from my parents to me!): P.S. Stay out of the ocean.

I will begin posting again for anyone inclined to read this.

Be well.

A message to myself.

Disappointed, not dismayed

The inaugural Pasadena Marathon was canceled at 4 am.

I didn't find out until after my early rise, smoothie, and energy bar. At first I didn't believe the electronic signs along the freeway saying "Pasadena Marathon Canceled." I thought, "maybe the half marathon is still on." But when I pulled into the parking lot just before 5:30, the officer informed me that, indeed, all race activities for the day were called off by the city and Kaiser Permanente, the primary sponsor of the event. Kaiser is one of the country's largest not-for-profit health plan providers, so if anyone can be in a position to evaluate the health consequences of running long distances is particulate saturated air, I guess Kaiser can. They did anyway.

Coming home from Pasadena, I drove within sight of one of the raging fires plaguing the region. Memories of last October.

Now the reality is kicking in for me: I've rested two straight days, had an easy taper week, and need to run. I feel a 12 mile run coming on this evening. Smoke or no smoke. With Radiohead.

The Day Before Tomorrow

Blogs are supposed to have some immediacy to them, no? Here's my day, my feelings right now, the day before my first half marathon. A race I didn't realize I would run when I started putting my feet down with purpose in early January. But it is a race I am destined to run. Tried to get a good night's sleep last night, because that is what everyone I talk with recommends...didn't happen. Too many thoughts about ancient rocks and evergreens.

But I have eaten normally today and tried to keep hydrated. The Santa Ana winds are blowing, making it hot, dry, clear, and in parts of the basin, smokey. I feel confident that I will run a good time tomorrow, for me that means under two hours, but all the logistics have me running around at the last minute for sunglasses that vent (haven't needed them for 11 months), nipple sized band aids (haven't needed them either), and a nice pair of running shorts with places for keys and energy boosts (actually, needed them).

I'll run without carrying water on the advice of a good friend who appreciates being unencumbered. No music either. I want to experience the entire race without the aid of the boys from Oxfordshire.

Despite all the stuff I need to gather, I have my bib number, clothes, and shoes. And my legs. I'm ready.