Nice run along a moody Lake Michigan this morning. And what Pearl Jam songs appeared on my restorative, anniversary, #PJWrigley weekend? Save You, Far Behind (EV), and Rise (EV). The #ShuffleGods always get it right. And then the skies opened up, dumping rain with thunder and lightning, and it was actually quite perfect, as all the Seattle stress washed away. And Scott gets here tonight!
Sometimes you have to to do things just to prove to yourself that you can do it. No, I am not talking about the half marathon that I ran recently. I knew I could run the 13.1 miles. What I didn’t know is that I could run them without listening to music. I’m usually plugged in, and I take my playlist seriously (“The Sweatiest Music”).
I boarded the race shuttle early that morning with all necessary gear — bib number, timing chip, iPod….but no headphones. If you had supersonic hearing, you would have heard a thunderous “F**K!!!” emanating from my head when I discovered it. I’ve done short runs without music, and it’s fine, but a two hour run? When the momentary sense of panic wore off, I resigned myself to a quiet run and figured that it could be worse.
This being the “Rock n Roll” marathon, bands were stationed along the route, and that was nice, but not the same. It got me thinking though — if I were the event organizer, I would station a big-name band somewhere along the route. How funny would it be to see people really surprised? Maybe the serious runners would not notice, and run on by. Me, though — I love running, but not enough to avoid stopping and watching one of my favorite bands.
The upside of the quiet run was that I got to hear the conversations of the people running near me. There were a lot of exchanges that I started calling “No Man Left Behind”, all going something like this:
“You go on without me; this is ridiculous, I can’t keep up”
“No. No!! We agreed to do this together, I’m not leaving you!”
The other common theme – spousal bickering: “Well! If you don’t want to listen to me talk, then don’t run by me! Whatever!!” (I could relate to that poor guy. I didn’t want to run by his wife, either.)
After the finish, there was a little post-race concert with NW mid-90’s darling, Everclear. Bar Exam memories aside, (“Heroin Girl, or Heroine Girl?”), it was fun to reflect on how much had changed since the last time I saw them, that summer so long ago (especially the fact that this time, I had two kids with me). They didn’t sound great, and lead singer Art Alexakis is the only original member, but it was entertaining all the same.
I swear to you on Eddie Vedder that I am not exaggerating this next part. It is hilarious yet troubling, and if it’s any indication of what’s to come during her teenage years, her dad and I are in for quite a ride.
My daughter decided that she wanted the lead singer to see her rocking out. My husband held her up and she fist-pumped during the songs, waving at Art Alexakis and trying to get him to point to her. “Closer!” she said, so she and I crept closer to the stage, leaving the men behind (familiar territory…. although normally my partners in crime are my sisters). When the show ended, Art knelt down at the edge of the stage and shook hands with those who could reach him.
We were a few rows back, so he waved to my daughter and said “Hi sweetie, how are you?” She waved back, answered “Good!”, and announced to me that she was ready to leave. The lead singer had now been informed that she was there, and her work was done.
Here’s the problem with sharing an iTunes library with a spouse: much like moving in together and commingling your CD’s, the lines of “yours, mine, and ours” become inexorably blurred. As a result, you can be enjoying a lovely morning run, accompanied by a perfectly crafted playlist (“The Sweatiest Music”), when – BAM! – on comes your musical nemesis, Pink Floyd. All momentum grinds to a halt as you hurriedly skip it in order to right the ship.
After an initial accusation in my head, I now know that my husband didn’t do this to sabotage my workout. He knows of my disdain towards Pink Floyd, but he likes them, and probably will think it’s funny that they ended up on my workout playlist (whether he did it intentionally or not).
It’s always been interesting to me how certain music can make the reject pile, just by its association with a certain person or situation. It’s possible that under different circumstances I could have been a fan of Pink Floyd, but a college neighbor who played it at all hours of the night sealed that deal. Jimmy Buffett and Hootie and the Blowfish have suffered similar fates, not that I am particularly mourning the loss of any of them.
Still, it’s apparent that my workout playlist needs some editing. And I might as well throw in a little payback while I’m at it. Someone should warn my husband that an extended fiddle jam from the Dave Matthews Band is coming his way soon.
I don’t usually run with anyone. I understand why people do, though – it helps to push you farther. I once had an old guy wave me down while I was running. He continued to chat me up, all the way around the lake, despite the fact that I was wearing headphones (which I thought was the universal signal for “don’t talk to me”, kind of like reading a magazine on an airplane). Short of stopping, I didn’t know how to get away from him. And so I continued running with him, mainly because I did not want to be outpaced by an old guy.
Running with him wasn’t awful. But for me, running is a solitary, mediative experience. I far prefer my headphones to any idle chit chat. I de-compress, I relax, and I figure out whatever problems are nagging at me.
The weather is hit and miss these days, so recently I had to run at the gym. A few minutes in, a guy about my age got on the treadmill next to me. I immediately noticed a tattoo on his forearm: “without music, life would be a mistake”. (I have since learned that this is a Nietzsche quote. I vaguely remember some Nietzsche from college, but I like him much more now that I know this quote.)
The dude was jamming out as he ran — he stopped short of playing an air guitar, but he drummed his hands on the treadmill, and punched the air a few times. He was a kindred spirit, in his own private concert just like me. (“The Sweatiest Music”).
I was dying to know what he was listening to. Am I missing essential music on my workout playlist? But, of course, treadmill etiquette dictates that you don’t really acknowledge the person on the treadmill next to you. And asking to see someone’s iPod is akin to asking to read their journal.
So I didn’t. But we ran on, side by side, each in our own world. Kind of like running together, only better.
The past two days, I’ve been digging the Smashing Pumpkins. This really doesn’t make sense to me. I like them just fine and have some of their old stuff, but it’s never been ‘go to’ music for me in any way.
Then yesterday while I was running, this lyric from “Tonight, Tonight” jumped up and hit me in the gut:
And you know you’re never sure
But you’re sure you could be right
If you held yourself up to the light.
I just love that. It resonated with me, I think, because of an image that popped into my head recently while talking with a friend: that each of us is basically a shell game.
We meet people throughout stages of our lives, we form relationships…people drift in and out and really only know a portion of us, or what we allow them to see.
A constant shuffle, reminiscent of the law school “hide the ball” analogy…letting certain aspects of ourselves show, and cautiously guarding others. Do we ever really lift up all the shells at once?
This seemed profound and deep at the time. In print it seems more akin to late-night college drunk talk. Twenty years too late, and I’m not drunk, but I still like it.
I was thinking yesterday about what makes a good workout playlist. What works on any given day is always up for grabs. The lawyer in me, though, can distill it down into these essential elements:
1. VOLUME. The music must be mind-numbingly loud, creating an audio cocoon that drowns out any peripheral noise. I don’t want to be talked to when I have on headphones, so whether I can hear what anyone is saying is immaterial.
2. CONTENT. Live recordings are best, but studio versions will do. The perfect tempo is one that coincides with your running pace, resulting in a sweaty bliss as if you are dancing in the summer sun at The Gorge. I have a recording of a really hot Pearl Jam show at The Gorge, and when those songs come on, it’s almost — almost — like being there again. And I’m usually just as sweaty, considering the temperature at that show was 110.
3. TRANSPORT. Creative visualization is a nice bonus. If a song reminds me of a funny memory, it shifts my focus from thinking about how tired I am. That being said, some songs have inexplicably made it onto my playlist, and I have no idea why. Crosby, Stills and Nash only remind me of late nights in law school, and thus have no place on a workout playlist. I can’t hit “skip” fast enough, yet I have been too lazy to remove them.
4. CONTEXT. And finally, of course, the music does not have to be music that you listen to at any other time. Do I ever listen to Public Enemy or Soundgarden while I am making dinner? No. But are they a mainstay in my workout playlist? Absolutely.
Yesterday was a grumpy day. I pulled out all the stops, from Pearl Jam to Live to Dave Matthews. My motto is that there is no problem that can’t be solved by loud music on a pair of headphones. But yesterday was not to be, and nothing helped, not even going for a run.
Today – quiet. Sunny, clear weather…quiet. A quiet walk around the lake, followed by a quiet house.
Then it came to me, over a pickle on a chopping block. A tiny little breakthrough, simple and yet profound all at the same time.
And now, finally, some internal quiet.
If I were to make a list of songs that just ooze sunshine for me, this would be near the top of the list. “The Day Brings” always makes me smile. It’s got the catchy little piano groove, the drum skiff, and it’s just darn chipper. Besides, how can you not love the cool mod living room on the album cover, and of course the band name….Brad.
A beautiful crisp fall morning, I walked to school with my 2nd grader on his scooter, then I ran home. Sandwiched in between G. Love and Special Sauce tunes, there was Brad.
And on this run-of-the-mill Thursday, Brad worked its magic. A tiny spring in my stride, and a private acknowledgement that I have much to be thankful for, and no major complaints. And really, what perfect lyrics:
See what the day brings. See what makes you laugh, and see what makes you sing.
Good advice, on any day.
Corduroy Notes 