"thanks," w.s. merwin

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
smiling by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

my one-time stint as a professional nike runner

this morning, I arrived at portland meadows at 6:50 for the 7 AM nike video shoot call. as I mentioned the other day, I answered an ad, posted by one of the local running stores, calling for women who could pass as elite high school cross country runners. the video is a promo for the nike cross nationals; it will air on the internet only (because the nationals are also only viewable online). thirty women were picked from last week's photo shoot/audition.

this whole thing was so totally surreal. I have no aspirations to be a model or actor, but I am a sucker for anything that seems like an adventure or that will make a good story. it was a kick in the pants to tell people, "oh, I won't be in the office tomorrow, I'll be doing a nike video shoot all day." how fun to get to be the talent.



the girls all arrived, checked in, filled out tax paperwork, and got our clothes for the shoot: a high school cross country uniform (from three local high schools), a pair of socks, and a new pair of nike xc victory race spikes.




we hung out for awhile inside the clubhouse, everyone in sweats and jackets. the agency that cast us had stressed again and again the importance of bringing tons of warm clothes, so everyone was bundled up and many girls had blankets. (I brought a zebra print snuggie).




when we finally headed over to the track, it was about 7:45. it was still super cold, but thankfully sunny. THANK YOU PORTLAND, SERIOUSLY. the jog across the long expanse of infield was our first of SO MUCH RUNNING SWEET JESUS



of course, we'd all been prepped that there would be a lot of running. one of the fields on the audition form even asked what our weekly mileage was. for good reason, it turned out.

we filmed in four race "locations," each a different spot along the "course." (the real nike cross nationals are weeks away, so the course hasn't actually been set up yet). the gag in the video is this: a commentator is at a desk in the middle of the course, trying to talk about the race but continuously being interrupted by the pack of girls racing. so for about 60% of the time, our runs were focused on swerving around him at his desk (or variations on that theme). our first location was a curve on the course, maybe about 50 yards long. we began running at 8:15 or so and didn't move from that spot until about 10 AM; we probably did 25 takes just running the curve. and all the running, all day, was fast. after all -- this is nationals. five minute miles. essentially: sprinting.

since it wasn't rainy, the course wasn't nearly as muddy as it would ordinarily be, so in between takes members of the crew would go over to a corner of the infield with a shovel and some buckets, dig up a bunch of mud, wheel it over in a wheelbarrow, and ask us to slather it all over our shoes and legs. this proved surprisingly difficult, because the shoes essentially REFUSED to stay dirty, and our legs dried quickly, turning the mud to powder.

also, these were the shoes we were going to take home, so everybody was a little reluctant to get them dirty!

our second take was in the series of hills built into the infield, which I happened to encounter earlier this season in the first of the red lizard cross country races, held on the nike pre-nationals course. the hills are essentially a series of four or five moguls. quick up, quick down. funny the first time I encountered them in the course, but way harder the second time.

we spent almost three hours on them.

then: lunch.

then YOU GUYS. the shot we worked on after lunch was on a straightaway in the middle of the infield, and we were joined by andrew wheating, an olympic 800m runner who's currently a nike athlete. I did not know that "run with an olympian" was on my bucket list, but: CHECK. (I was trying to also check off "pass an Olympian in a run" but that dude is fast, y'all). here is my stealth shot of him (the very tall person in the red coat).



he was a hoot. he was an "interviewer" running along with us, and he kept accidentally inserting lines like, "oh, cool," into his script. meanwhile, our pack of girls had been cut in half, since only a few runners would even show up in the shot. those of us who were running probably did 10 takes with andrew, running up and down a stretch of about 100 meters. we kept joking about alternative things we could do (he could talk in an accent, he could throw in a catch phrase like ron burgundy, etc) and so the crew let us do an 'outtake' clip, where andrew pushed a bunch of us out of the way and chased one runner the length of the course, eventually shoving her (not hard) into the course markers. we made it about 3/4 of the way through the take before we all burst out laughing.


(the ladies in a moment of down time prior to the shoot at location #3)

our last location of the day was "the mud pit." the crew had spent the morning running a hose in one corner of the infield, so that by the time we got there, the ensuing puddle was ankle deep. it was 3:15; the sun was going down and we were all getting cold again. we smeared ourselves again with mud, which turned out to be hilariously pointless, since the moment we ran our first take through the puddle, we were all saturated. meanwhile, the crew set up propane heaters so that we didn't freeze to death. everyone's feet were killing them from 8 hours spent running in spikes; most of us were stiff and cold and tired. we did another 15 or 20 takes in the mudpit before we finally called it a day. I took a shower when I got home and I STILL have mud in my hair. (which is super classy because I'm at the opera now).


the girls, all in matching shoes

overall, it was a super fun day, but we were all SO GLAD when it ended. a few hours later, I am walking with some difficulty; mainly my feet hurt, but I'm also just generally tweaky and incredibly, unbelievably tired. like, I was standing backstage waiting for my ratchet cues for figaro and I really thought, my legs might give out. eight hours is a long time to do sprints. I cannot wait to go to bed.

even if I now saw you
only once,
I would long for you
through worlds,
worlds.

-- haiku, izumi shikibu

things right now feel almost impossible.

"watching television," marie howe

I didn't want to look at the huge white egg the mother spider dragged
along behind her, attached to her abdomen, held off the ground,

bigger than her own head--
and inside it: hundreds of baby spiders feeding off the nest,

and in what seemed like the next minute,
spinning their own webs quickly and crazily,

bumping into each other's and breaking them, then mending
and moving over, and soon they got it right:

each in his or her own circle and running around it.
And then they slept,

each in the center of a glistening thing: a red dot in ether.

Last night the moon was as big as a house at the end of the street,
a white frame house, and rising,

and I thought of a room it was shining in, right then,
a room I might live in and can't imagine yet.

And this morning, I thought of a place on the ocean where no one is,
no boat, no fish jumping,

just sunlight gleaming on the water, humps of water that hardly break.

I have argued bitterly with the man I love, and for two days
we haven't spoken.

We argued about one thing, but really it was another.
I keep finding myself standing by the front windows looking out at the
street

and the walk that leads to the front door of this building,
white, unbroken by footprints.

Anything I've ever tried to keep by force I've lost.

rockstar

ETA: official time: 21:53! 2nd in my age group, 5th woman, 24th place overall.

here, have a laugh at my face!



21:5x (exact time TBA) in this morning's 5K. I might have shed one tiny thrilled tear just after I crossed the finish line. my goals were, in prioritized order, as follows:

1. break PR (24:03)
2. break 23 minutes
3. look sweet in my new shoes.

nowhere on there do you see "break 22 minutes," but THERE IT IS, PEOPLE. I feel like one hundred million dollars. ONE HUNDRED MILLION. perhaps even two hundred million.

I finally ran a smart race: a 7:37 first mile, then a 7:15ish average for the rest of the race. I don't have the final mile split because I forgot to hit the reset button on my watch, and my overall average time was thrown off by forgetting to hit the stop button AGAIN at the end of the race. BUT THAT'S OKAY. BECAUSE NOW I'VE GOT A 21-MINUTE 5K.

the first mile I probably checked my watch 30 times, because I started out at a 6:30 pace and had to talk myself down for the first 300 meters or so. "no, slower." "no, SERIOUSLY, slower." the opening pace felt so easy that it was really good I had my garmin or I would have killed it too early. I let myself open it up a little once I passed the one mile mark -- and it's an indication of how good I felt that I assumed the "1" was 1 KILOMETER until I checked my GPS.

in mile two I tried to stop looking at my damn wrist every four seconds and just aimed for holding steady, feeling relaxed, and pretending it was just a training run.

in the last mile we left the official race track and took a detour around the grounds, which turned out to be a good distraction. I passed a bunch of people who'd gone out too fast, and I felt a little bad about it. don't I know how that is, eh?

just after I passed a high school xc kid, his coach said, "you're a sprinter now! time to go!" and I thought, sir, that is music to my ears. I realized we were pretty close to the finish so I gunned it. we had to go around a set of bleachers to reach the track and my only regret is not having more of the track to finish on, because it's only once I can see the finish that I turn on the turbo. just as I could make out the clock (I was running too fast to look at my watch), I realized it said 21:52 and I did in fact say, out loud, "NO NO NO NO" and then turned on all the engines and motored in to finish under 22. UNDER 22!

it may be a testament to how much faster I could probably have run that I did not dry heave at the end of this race. I always dry heave. seriously. gross, but true. any time I sprint the finish like that, I have one terrible moment where I think I'm gonna boot it all over the grass, and then I'm good.

which is to say, of course now I'm thinking, I could probably break 21. since I've been running, on average, a paltry 10-15 miles a week and have incorporated absolutely zero speedwork.

anyway, let's enjoy the moment, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I'm very proud of this:



steady!

now I'm gonna go eat a plate of bacon and chestbump a stranger BECAUSE I CAN

shenanigans

things are off to a promising start.

y'all, this blog has gotten SO SERIOUS. although my life these days does consist largely of loose buddhism, intense introspection, and the constant struggle to figure out the best ways to love others, I swear things are occasionally lively.

here, have a picture of me and figaro.



he's our costume shop cat. I wrote more about him here.

my sister comes to town tonight. there will be shenanigans. stay tuned.

I have spent my entire work day (marking mozart scores, an intensely tedious and therefore introspective task) thinking about this.

songs without words

september

Tonight there must be people who are getting what they want.
I let my oars fall into the water.
Good for them. Good for them, getting what they want.

The night is so still that I forget to breathe.
The dark air is getting colder. Birds are leaving.

Tonight there are people getting just what they need.

The air is so still that it seems to stop my heart.
I remember you in a black and white photograph
taken this time of some years. You were leaning against
a half-shed tree, standing in the leaves the tree had lost.

When I finally exhale it takes forever to be over.

Tonight, there are people who are so happy,
that they have forgotten to worry about tomorrow.

Somewhere, people have entirely forgotten about tomorrow.
My hand trails in the water.
I should not have dropped those oars. Such a soft wind.


-- jennifer michael hecht

the mower

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.

-- philip larkin