Tag Archives: running

To Quote Big Papi, This is our *^&#)$@ city

Boston-StrongI’ve lived all over the country. I was born in Detroit, moved to Cincinnati, and then Chicago. After a number of years, I left the Midwest for Silicon Valley where they have climate as opposed to weather. I didn’t miss the seasons. Then I moved to Boston.

I don’t know what it is, but Boston wedged itself in my heart. It really shouldn’t have.

First of all, the weather sucks. We moved into our house in April. It had been a warm winter for Boston, and Spring came early. By mid-April it was in the 70′s every day. One sunny Saturday I put plants out on our deck. Basil, and petunias and some Impatiens. I even got a sunburn.

Two days later we got two inches of snow.

Every year after that, Boston got epic levels of the white stuff. I grew up in Michigan, so I’m no stranger to blizzard conditions, but not until Boston did I understand what a white out really looked like. I remember when I was little, reading the “Little House” books, I wondered why everyone got all tragic when Pa had to go to the barn during a snowstorm. After Boston, I got it. One time I walked to the dude’s school during a storm to get him and wasn’t sure if I was even going in the right direction. I planned ahead, however. I had Oreos packed in my coat pockets. It took an hour and a half to get one mile.

Boston has  too much traffic, and the drivers are awful. I know that every city says their drivers are awful, but in Boston, it’s true. And they’re proud of it. The street names change every two miles. Giving directions is not simple. Turn left on Waltham, but then it turns into Ridge, then Forest, and then Park, but just keep going until you get to Lowell, which looks like it should be Bow, but it’s not. Just trust me. Don’t even get me started on people that run red lights, traffic circles or Storrow Drive.

The road construction was endless. There were so many detours, even the Garmin got pissed off. Recalculating. Again. What’s wrong with you people?

And yet, here I am in Virginia, and my basement wall is painted like the Green Monster. The dude has Patriots stuff all over everywhere. I stream The River, which is the only decent radio station in the universe, from every electronic device I own, and I feel a rush of pride when I hear “Dirty Water.” I miss the accent, and Wilson Farms, and Crane Beach, which is actually in Ipswich, but it’s close enough.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy in Virginia. I have an amazing group of friends that make my heart light. I can run year-round. The dude can play baseball Spring, Summer and Fall. In so many ways, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my lifetime. Yet, when everything went down in Boston last week, it felt personal.

I will never understand the heinous things people do, or how they rationalize their actions. I do know this–they messed with the wrong city. I’m not the first to say it, or even the most eloquent. That would be Dennis Lehane.  Boston is the most stubborn, f*** you, this is me, take-it-or-leave-it city I have ever known. And in the few years that I called it home, it left a mark on me that will last forever.

Love that dirty water. Boston Strong.

The city of Boston is observing a moment of silence at 2:50 p.m. this afternoon in honor of the victims of Monday’s bombing. Find a moment today to do the same, and pray for peace and understanding.

J. B. Everett

 

 

Let’s hope at least the band-aid is ouchless

minimal shoesIt’s 79 degrees outside, and I’m one happy puppy. I just got back from a run, and it feels so good. I run during cold weather, but I don’t really enjoy it. It’s like running in a sleeping bag, while pulling barbed wire through your throat. And I don’t even live in Boston anymore. I’ve become a weather wuss.

All that padding slowed me down. I was running a lot of miles, but very slowly. I couldn’t move that fast, so I never really got to the point of pain. I didn’t go running, I went trudging. A lot of effort, not a lot of accomplishment.

Last week  I put on the running shorts and switched out my heavy winter running sneaks for a pair of minimal shoes. I was flying. There was only one problem.The shoes I ran in during the winter had thick soles and lots of padding. I wore heavy socks.  So, the calluses I’d built up throughout the year were gone. My Minimus shoes are a sole and some shoelaces.  By the time I’d reached a mile, my feet were already sporting blisters.  By the time I’d reached two, my left foot was bleeding.

I love my minimal shoes. I feel every change in terrain, the stones, the heaved up pavement, the curves and ridges along the path. My feet spread out to grip the ground, and my stride is even and natural. It’s not always a comfortable run, but it feels so much better than the slow trudge. It’s all about choosing the right path and not mistaking discomfort for pain. This morning I slapped a band-aid on my foot. I just finished four miles.

My writing experience has been similar. A few months ago, I was writing every moment. I had content enough to post every day and still have words left unsaid. I was submitting stories and poems almost weekly. I had momentum. I got rejections and moved on, knowing, as they say, that it was one step closer to yes. I got acceptances and began to embrace that my future as a writer might not be as impossible as I’d thought.

Winter came, I focused on editing my novel and I guess I got wrapped up in it. I began posting less frequently and writing less material. The steady stream of words became a trickle. I haven’t submitted anything of late, either. I’m not feeling secure in the work. It feels forced, the truth muffled behind a lot of words. I kept my writing close, so it could be both protected and protective.

Now, it is spring again, and I feel the urge to write returning. I’m shedding the layers, but it’s painful. I’m feeling the rocks and twigs and tree roots under the soil, but my footing is more secure. My writer’s soul is raw and exposed. The raw soul is where truth resides.

So I get up tomorrow, put a band-aid on it and move on. It’s cool. I have a bunch of Superman band-aids left, and Dude won’t wear them anymore. I just hope they are ouchless. Taking those suckers off hurts.

Words by J. B. Everett

Photograph “Minimalist Running Shoe” by Patrick Maloney © 2011 Creative Commons