little things

weekend distance:  15 miles
on the iPod:  "the wind" -- zac brown band

The descriptors teachers use around the back to school season probably change based on the grade level taught.  For instance, my friends that teach kindergarten and the early grades continually say "precious", my friends who teach middle school and junior high are prone to using "fun", and my counterparts in the high school ranks are apt to think of it as "fast-paced" or "hectic."  But regardless, I would lay down money that all teachers would agree that it's exhausting.  And I mean that in the best possible light.  Monday was a blur.  Tuesday felt more like being in the middle of a whirlwind.  Wednesday's goal was to jump in the fray and hold on.  Thursday and Friday?  I'd like to say there was some semblance of what a normal school week looks like, but they both were just as fast, with only of a glimpse toward the weekend to keep us all going.  If I did the math, I probably averaged sacking out every night around 8:30 and completely out of it by 8:31.

Adding to my exhaustion was having to go through one of the most annoying and ridiculously frustrating experiences that a man has to deal with -- buying a car.  The whole industry is slimy and there's no way to avoid it.  I'm fairly certain that process is one of the levels of hell in Dante's Inferno.  And it's got to be toward the bottom.  After looking for about a month, I finally got serious enough last week to start the test-driving process, and after doing so with about 9 vehicles, I found one that works perfect for what I need and bought it on Tuesday.  Having driven it for five days now, it got even better this morning when Todd pointed out that it has satellite radio capabilities.  Score.  Now all I need is a front license plate.  

When the weekend finally did roll around, it was great to have dinner at Bordinos with my great friends Jason and Sarah who have recently relocated back to Fayetteville from Chicago.  They cheered for me in my first two marathons and have been huge supporters from day one of this whole running gig that I love so dearly.  I had my go-to meal of pasta and chicken and a glass of white wine from the Williamette Valley in Oregon.  On the ride home I was thinking about last summer when Sarah and I both ran the Chicago Half Marathon in the middle of July.  Holy Moses, it was crazy hot on that morning, but a super fun half nonetheless.

Mrs. Murie wanted to get an early start on our Saturday long run so that she could meet friends at the Farmer's Market, and I was excited when she suggested a 5:30 start time.  It would mean dropping my morning routine of reading the newspaper, drinking coffee, and having a toasted english muffin, but the lure of getting up early was well worth it.  Yeah, I know, that makes me weird.  I like to be up early, when the world is quiet and the buzz of activity hasn't yet begun.  I know that it's part of being an introvert, something with which i'm incredibly comfortable.  

I knew that a humidity of 93% would be a problem, but it never dawned on me that skipping my morning routine would have any bearing on the enjoyment of the run.  It's the little things in life that mean so much, I suppose, because after the initial energy burst wore off in mile three, I quickly realized that this run wasn't going to be my most enjoyable.  And it was more than the stifling humidity -- I wanted to sit down and collect my thoughts, to take a few seconds and watch my coffee change hues with a few drops of cream, to close my eyes and think about things that make me feel alive.  That's what I do each morning, and though they seem small, they are very much a part of who I am.  

Mrs. Murie and I kept going and I never felt any sense of rhythm, finding myself lumbering along anywhere from a few steps to five yards behind her.  She was the consummate friend, holding back from her own pace and sticking with me.  And, as always, she was happy to talk about the goings-on in our lives with a true interest and warmth, while my efforts at a reciprocated conversation were cumbersome and no more than half-hearted.  It just wasn't my day.  

Getting home, I showered immediately and iced my right knee, which was giving me a bit of trouble, most likely from the transition back to wearing leather dress shoes and climbing stairs at school.  Sitting there in my living room big chair, I shuffled my iPod and lost myself for what must have been at least an hour, as Ben Folds, Death Cab For Cutie, John Legend, Band of Horses, and The Cars rolled through my temporal lobe like a lullaby.  

Despite the exhaustion, I'm so happy to be back in full-swing at BHS.  I love teaching students and, more importantly, being a small part of the individual journey each of them is on.  I remember my own teachers and how much I liked them, so hopefully my classroom is an incubator for those same feelings.  It's incredibly important.  Soon enough the buzz of the first week will give way to routine, and we'll all settle in for a great year, but until then there will most likely be more nights of crashing at 8:30, only to wake again when the alarms sounds furiously at 5:06 a.m.  

What won't change, however, is running.  Even though this weekend's 15 miler was less than enjoyable, that will be the exception, not the rule.  I'm already thinking about when I can go out for a quick three or four miles in the next few days, and a long run on Saturday.  I'm excited about three races coming up in the month of September, and if I close my eyes in the quiet of an early morning, with  a cup of coffee, I can begin to think about finishing the New York City Marathon in November.  

Run.