on the iPod: "blue sky" -- the allman brothers band
My life is compartmentalized. Looking back at my 38 years, the picture becomes crystal clear of just exactly how compartmentalized it actually is, and that it has been for as long as I can remember. My gut feeling is that it functions as a defense mechanism, keeping everything at arm's length and neatly boxed in. Clean. Separate. Perfect.
I have my social friends. Most of them are carryovers from my mid-twenties, and all of them are amazing people and very much loved. We formed our connection in JR's and bars on Dickson Street, in lecture halls and Old Main lawn and football games, camping at the Buffalo River, and going to see live shows all over the South. It might be days or weeks between my interactions with any number of them, but we always pick up right where we left off, laughing and enjoying each other's company. They know who they are.
I also have my fellow teacher friends. I couldn't ask for a better group of colleagues who are not only really fun to work with, but also strikingly intelligent. There's not a single work day that I don't enjoy, based largely in part to the passion that we all share for education. We have the best time up on the third floor of Bentonville High School, and when things get a bit rough, which is rare, I know that every single one of them is right behind me. That's the truth.
There's also my running group. Of course Mrs. Murie is my number one training compatriot, but there's a fairly large group of runners which we see on the trails, at Starbucks, in start corrals and finish lines, and pretty much anywhere there is running to be had. It's great fun to talk and share stories, log miles together, take pictures, drink celebratory beers, and simply bask in the sport in which we are all intensely dedicated.
I have the Episcopal Church. I can't imagine my life without St. Paul's and the extremely loving and generous people that make the parish so special and meaningful to me. Being in that space, and being around them, blankets me in a love that is unmatched and difficult to fully comprehend. But I know it when I feel it.
Then there's my immediate family. More than anybody else, their company probably means the most to me. There's really not much more that can be said about it, but suffice it to say that they mean the world to me and I love them all very much. Our Sunday night dinners are one of the highlights of my weekend. They make me the luckiest guy in the world.
But for whatever reason these groups tend to stay separate. Compartmentalized. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but rather just the way that my personality and mind work. It's easy for me to understand it and simply let it be. Maybe other people are the same way, maybe not. I'm not exactly for sure. On the occasion when these groups overlap, i'm always completely taken aback. Surprised. I can't figure it out initially, and must admit that it causes me some level of anxiety. But when I step back and take time to process the two worlds colliding, I almost always enjoy the outcome. That's exactly what happened this week, and it was really cool. Here's the story:
Anytime I travel, I try to pack my running shoes. Lacing up and running in a different, unique environment is huge rush of adrenaline. I suspect i'm not the only runner who feels the same way, but I know for myself just exactly how enjoyable running in another city is. So when I went to Little Rock this week for a conference of AP teachers from several states, running gear was the first thing I grabbed. Staying in the River Market at the Peabody Hotel, I was familiar with multiple routes from running the Little Rock Half Marathon the last two years. The weather would be in the mid-sixties on Thursday afternoon, which practically begged for bailing a few minutes early on the afternoon session and hitting the pavement. It was a done deal and I couldn't wait. The Clinton Presidential Bridge had recently opened, spanning the Arkansas River at the base of the library to North Little Rock, and I knew it'd be a great run with expansive views of the city. Running bridges is really fun, partly because there's usually a gentle but long incline, but also because of the height over water. It's just cool, I don't really know how to explain it. The Clinton bridge was magnificent and gorgeous. It didn't disappoint.
While sitting in the luncheon with my colleagues, eating bland chicken and rubbery vegetables cooked hours ago for the hungry masses, my thoughts were on running. The Peabody is a great hotel, and it's trademark love for all things mallard, right down to live ducks that march a red carpet to their very own concrete pond in the grand atrium, is uniquely Southern. But just like any other hotel built for large conferences, the food is marginal at best. I've been to many education conferences at the Peabody over the years and never fail to get excited over the bread and butter they serve at the luncheons. The pats of butter are shaped like ducks. Yep. Duck butter. Really. It's the truth. I digress...
As the luncheon progressed a colleague from BHS, Jason Jedamski, leaned in and asked if I packed running shoes. I said yes. He said he did as well. I said he should go running with me that afternoon. He agreed. Right there, completely unexpected, it happened. Two of my worlds collided. I didn't even know that Jed ran. He was just another colleague that I really enjoyed working with. This was going to be cool.
Shortly thereafter, Mrs. Pugh, who stayed back to stamp out ignorance once class at a time, texted to ask how the conference was going. I reported things were well and that Jed and I were going running that afternoon. The text exchange that followed went something like this:
Mrs. Pugh: Jed runs?
me: He does. I did not know this.
Mrs. Pugh: I think we saw him on the Crystal Bridges trail once.
me: I don't remember that.
.....minutes pass.....
Mrs. Pugh: "I run" means different things to different people.
me: I know right? What if he can only go like a mile or something?
Mrs. Pugh: good luck with that.
So Jed and I headed out that afternoon not really having an understanding of each other's pace or abilities in terms of distance. It would be a crap shoot. Either one of us could wear out and have to turn around, but the day was too too nice to not get some mileage in. We set out heading east toward the Clinton Library and within the first 100 yards I knew that we'd be a-okay and were ready for a great run. Two of my worlds collided and, just like always, the result was a good thing.
We talked shop primarily as we crossed into North Little Rock and followed quite a bit of the marathon route, finding a comfortable pace that was good for both of us. Jed is a great colleague, but we function in different roles at BHS and don't always spend a lot of time together, so it was really cool to run together. Any anxieties I had were gone as quick as the turns and intersections that we ran. Crossing back over the Arkansas River and into Little Rock again, we picked up the pace a bit and ran to the steps of the State Capital building before turning around and heading back to the Peabody. It was a really good thing, and a run that I won't soon forget.
The evening included dinner at a local mexican food landmark eatery with teachers from BHS and crosstown school Rogers Heritage. I sat back and enjoyed the evening with my colleagues as my legs reminded me with mild pain that we'd hit two bridges pretty hard just hours before. My compartmentalized life, for that day, had become less compartmentalized and more fluid. It doesn't happen often, but I'm really glad when it does.
Run.
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