hair gel and a bag of peanuts

My Christmas tree usually comes down on the 2nd or 3rd of January each year, but i’ve felt really lazy so far this winter, so I successfully created excuses for putting it off until today.  Watching bowl games.  Cooking comfort food.  Reading another chapter in my book.  Taking a nap.  Prepping for school.  Yep, that’s right, I actually chose to prep in advance over taking down the tree.  But more than anything else, it’s the smell of the tree.  I’m a real tree guy.  No fake pre-lit trees for me.  I grew up with a plastic tree as a kid, but at some point in life my family switched to getting a real tree and the holidays instantly changed.  They became brighter.  More real.  Tactile.  But most of all, the smell of the Fraser Fir permeated my awareness and forever signaled the holiday season.  So with much fanfare and pomp, I dismantled it today and laid it gently by the curb on a blanket of fresh snow.  Okay, I kinda just dropped it on the curb, but inside my heart I did something different.

I already missed it as I shoved all the ornaments down into a huge tupperware container and dragged them up in the attic.  My attic, not unlike my life in general, is a starkly quiet place, with little clutter to be had.  I rarely venture up there, of course, but when I do i’m always struck by the solitude that I find.  Random, I know, but it’s the truth.  The last step was to sweep up the needles, which I ceremoniously threw into the backyard, a swift wind sweeping them across my fenced retreat.  I’ve always scoffed at the “real trees are too messy crowd” and secretly shame them with my thoughts when I take all of about 45 seconds to sweep up what’s left of my tree.  This year’s pile was exceptionally easy to manage.

Yes, i’ll probably find a few needles who survived the broom’s wrath throughout the spring months, but it’s well worth the discovery to have a real tree next to my hearth, glowing and sparkling at night, while I wait for Santa to arrive and the Baby Jesus to be born.  In fact, i’ve already found a needle in my running bag, which i’ve come to rely on this last year and seems to go everywhere with me, in case the mood strikes and I need to log some miles.

This running pack makes me so happy.  It’s current contents include, but are not limited to:  running shoes, my iPod shuffle, chap stick, swim goggles (holdover from summer), hair gel (go ahead and judge me), new shoe laces, two different tech shirts, anti-bacterial hand sanitizer, running shorts, mouthwash, gum, a bag of peanuts, a half-drank bottle of water, safety pins for race bibs, and about four different energy products.  I keep it in my car and only change out shirts and shorts.  I’ve thought about ditching the leather man-bag that I carry to work and using this instead, but then I wouldn’t have a cool pack for my running gear.  And as much as I enjoy teaching, running wins.

Yesterday I (kinda) officially started training for the Little Rock Marathon with a 14 miler on the trail system.  Because i’ve been a lazy bum for pretty much the last month, I slept in again and got a late start, leaving out at 8:45 from Starbucks.  The trails were sparse with people, mostly because it was right around the freezing mark in terms of temperature, so I was alone in my thoughts for the duration of the run, which turned out to be a great way to not only start training, but also start 2014.  I can’t say that my quads agreed, however, as they protested in pain for the remainder of the day, most of which I spent laying on the couch and dodging the aforementioned taking-down-of-the-tree.  

There are only seven weekends between now and the marathon, so to say that i’ve properly trained would be like saying that healthcare.gov was ready for the rollout.  But just as I smile when I think about universal healthcare, I also smile when I think about running my eighth marathon in our state’s capital city.  Hell, I smile when I think about running a marathon anywhere.  But I need to get myself in gear, nonetheless, or mile 14 and 15 going uphill through Hillcrest will chew me up and spit me out.  The plan is to slowly increase each weekend up to a 20 miler and just wing it from there.  Tapering?  That may or may not happen.  Of course mother nature might have something to say about that, and if so I’ll refuse to move indoors to an awful treadmill.  They have no souls.  I’d rather skip a long run and pay for it with pain in the final miles than spend hours on one of those lifeless machines, aimlessly staring at the walls and trying to drown out the hiss of the belt.  Something tells me I’m not going to win the race regardless, and my finisher’s medal will hang just as nicely around my neck no matter my time.  

I want to say thanks to everybody who takes time to read my writing.  Just this afternoon I was reminded how lucky I am when a friend whom I’ve known for years but don’t see often had kind words to say regarding this blog.  She said it was often part of her Sunday, which made me happy to know.  There are similar examples from the people I value:  a fellow teacher that says hi every morning when I get to school, a parishoner who hugs me when I see her at St. Paul’s, a high school buddy who’s status updates on social media are witty,  friends that keep me on their Christmas card list each and every year, runners who encourage me at races.  These interactions are what makes humanity such a kind and loving thing.  I know that I don’t always get it right, but please know that I try.  

And that Christmas tree needle I found in my running pack?  I left it there.  Along with the hair gel.  Happiest of 2014 to all, go out and do some running.  I know that I will.