on the iPod: "the way i are" -- timbaland
With the weather in the 70's over the weekend, Fayetteville was full of energy and people. The trail system was packed. There were runners, soccer moms, families, bikers, hippies, skinny jeans kids, geriatrics, sorority chicks, drunks, college students, dads, long boarders, and hell-raisers. Everybody in Fayetteville was out enjoying the day. It was classic. And really crowded.
This long run marked the end of Week Four of marathon training, and also the first significant long run in terms of mileage. Eleven. It felt great to finally get in a solid distance and I found myself wanting to go further when we sat down for a post-run beer. Patience and restraint are virtues, however, and I reminded myself that there are plenty of long runs to come, including a 20-miler just a few months away. Not to mention runs of 15, 17, and 18 before then. I'll probably be begging for an 11-miler at that point.
Realizing that our paces and training are very similar but at the same time unique to our selves, Mrs. Pugh and I are slowly embracing the idea of running apart from each other for measurable chunks at a time. That's a fancy way of saying that we are no longer making an effort to stay together when running. There's too much involved to keep going stride for stride. Part of the draw in running is the freedom that it affords the participant. If I want to hang back and take it easy, then so be it. But sometimes I want to pick up my pace and push my body to maximum effort. That's cool, too.
It's not uncommon for Mrs. Pugh, bless her heart, to preface our long runs with some sort of conversation about how it's okay if I want to pace ahead of her. "It won't hurt my feelings, Mr. Puckett", she says. And it's not uncommon for me to remind her that half the time she's ahead of me in pace anyway. Particularly during the second half. "Whatev. You're gonna wind up in front of me anyway, so shut it", I'll say. I usually start out fast, she almost always finishes strong. God love her.
Yesterday she immediately went out quick and got a sizeable jump on me. Hmmm. This isn't like her. I tried to pick up my speed and couldn't do it. I couldn't dial up that extra gear I needed to keep pace with her. Sometimes that push is there and sometimes it isn't. So I settled in with a comfortable time of my own and went with it. It was easy to do so with such amazing weather. The sun was perched in the sky like a king on his throne and a subtle breeze kept the air fresh. I was happy to do the eleven miles on my own, watching my friend run on her own. Later, I would be in front of her.
Shortly thereafter I got lost in my iPod. I almost always run with music, not unlike I do everything else in life: with music in the background. My running playlist is varied, from hip-hop to country to guitar-driven rock, and it rarely lets me down. But some days the shuffle of my iPod seems to be spot-on, delivering the perfect mix of music that keeps me in the right frame of mind while simultaneously willing my legs forward for another mile. I can't explain my love for music, but I definitely feel an emotional connection to so many artists and bands.
This love for music is nothing new. I can remember back as far as junior high, having an intense interest in tons of bands, particularly R.E.M. Like most of my friends, my first exposure to the band was It's The End of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine). I quickly, however, found the album "Green" and wore out three different cassettes before finally getting my first CD player for Christmas my sophomore year. The other major discoveries from high school were U2 and Indigo Girls. Polar opposites of each other in many ways, I'll never forget the profound impact that the albums "The Joshua Tree" and "Nomads, Indians, and Saints" had on my formative years. My friends and I would sing along to them with reckless abandon while driving around for fun after the school day was complete. It was pure and innocent emotion that came from our young souls, we thought we had the world figured out. Right. It seems like yesterday.
I continued to listen to and love those bands, amongst others, through my college experience. But I also found new sounds while skipping class and hanging out on Old Main lawn, at fraternity parties every weekend, and country-cruising the back roads of Washington County. Enter the Dave Matthews Band and "Under The Table And Dreaming". That album, more than any other, is the soundtrack for my years as an undergrad. It was, and still is, the perfect mix of passion, energy, and lyrical communication. I'll never forget hearing that album blaring full tilt from any number of stereos in the SAE house on a Thursday night or Saturday afternoon. I can close my eyes and be there again. Other bands were seminal to my college years: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Phish, Simon and Garfunkle, the Allman Brothers Band, Dr. Dre, the Beastie Boys the Rolling Stones, but nothing came close to the DMB.
The other major revelation from college was falling in love with seeing live music. My friends and I found ourselves going to shows practically every weekend, be it local bars on Dickson Street or huge venues like Sandstone or Red Rocks. Summers became devoted to the next big show, complete with road trips, camping out, tailgating in the lots, and other things that served to enhance the experience. We would get lost in the enormity of the crowd, the beer, the dancing, and the community of people that were there for the same singular reason we were: to hear great music. Those are some of the best memories I have and I wouldn't trade them for the world. Not even for a Boston qualifying time.
Music is still a huge part in the patchwork of my life. At home my television is almost always turned on, albeit with no sound, because my iPod is quietly playing in the background. Or sometimes not so quiet. Today it's still filled with R.E.M., U2, Indigo Girls and the Dave Matthews Band. It always will be. But those are just a drop in the bucket, having discovered so many amazing artists over the years: Allison Krauss, The Beatles, Ben Folds, The Shins, Blues Traveler, Brad Paisley, Coldplay, Radiohead, Son Volt, Death Cab For Cutie, Snow Patrol, the Dixie Chicks, Green Day, Kanye West, Johnny Cash, Keane, Oasis, The Weepies. Just this past week I discovered a new favorite: Explosions In The Sky. Finding them on Pandora, I sat in my classroom listening to these guys from Texas and became completely taken aback with their layered, sonically huge sound and feel. I'm a fan.
Not unlike running, music keeps me emotionally connected to life. I feel most alive when a favorite artist or song shuffles onto my speakers. And when the two passions, running and music, collide in a perfectly perfect way, the result is pure bliss.
Yesterday was one of those days.
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