Life, Liberty & the Pursuit of Happiness

Running in the Rain

I didn’t plan on running 20 percent longer than my longest run this year. Nor did I plan to run the farthest I’ve run in about 10 years. But I did.

I didn’t expect transcendence. But I found it.

It’s late September, and hurricane “Whoever” is grazing the New England coastline. I park at First Beach. The surfers are out. They love storms. There are several more hearty souls walking along the sidewalk. The waves are huge, at least for this part of the earth.

The sky is steel gray and the rain is spitting. People are just sitting in their cars watching the scenes unfold.

It’s warm, so I’m wearing running shorts and short sleeves, and my kool new black New Balance shoes. I clip on my tiny iPod Shuffle and string the earphones inside my shirt. I have loaded it with up-tempo running songs, and the sound is extraordinary. I’ve been running for thirty years and was a purist—no earphones. Not anymore these things are great.

I’m Running up the hill toward the hotel and the beginning of Cliff Walk. I slam a couple of street signs on the way up just for drill. I do this to pretend I’m Rocky and get psyched up. I’ve got bruises on my right shoulder to prove it. Kinda stupid, I know.

Turning down the Walk, high above the surging surf on my left. I Flick on the pod and pick up the pace as the music hits me.

“Well it’s late in the evening and the music’s seeping through…

I stepped into a funky bar where I was playing lead guitar…

I turned my amp up loud and I began to play….and it was late in the evening and I blew that room away.”

More people than expected, but no interference.

Starting to feel a part of this–soft spray, smooth strides. Feeling the blood coursing through my veins, my legs respond–I’m simply gliding. The pace is rhythmic, robust and natural–arms and legs in resonance, breathing in tune.

I’m looking down now to all sorts of surfers just loving the waves.

Umbrellas abound.

Junior Walker: “Shotgun.” Screaming saxophones. “It’s party time.”

Picking up the pace, moving in and out of the walkers, dancing  back and forth across the walk. Running the grass, no shock waves. Thanks for the Cortisone, doc. You were amazed I could run what with no cartilage at all in my medial knee joint. Don’t know why, but it feels great now as I high-five the bushes.

Something’s pulling me forward. This is so easy at the beginning, so tempting to let go and open up. But easy does it, taking it slow.

Forty Steps is looming ahead (10 minutes out). There’s a tour bus, more umbrellas. Fishermen down on the rocks in the rain, no one cares. I jump some stones and head off towards Ochre Court.

Wild Cherry: “Play that Funky Music.”

People are moving aside as I pass with a thanks and a wave. Don’t know how loud I sound cause the music’s in my ears. Rain staying light. Lovely pace now.

Passing Ochre Court, McCauley Hall and my old office at O’Hare. Lot’s of grass to run on, helping my knee. Moving at a pretty good clip, it’s the music, baby. The sidewalk dips and runs down to ocean level behind the Breakers. I’m running toward a group of walkers. One young woman tries to give me room, she’s too late but I slide by hugging the wall with a wave.

I hope these people can’t hear me singing.

“Let’s stir it up little darling, stir it up…

It’s been a long, long time since I got you on my mind…

I need you and that’s all I know. I need you stirring, so stir me up.”

The Breakers corner: another great spot for surfers as the waves meet each other at the point, looks scary with the rocks and all.

The walk’s in great shape all the way to this point. After the Breakers however, there’s rocks to negotiate. Stepping by the people, I scare the hell out of a teenager holding an umbrella. Quickly escaping her startled scream, I jump off the rocks on to a small beach where I can run. The mud and sand suck at my shoes. Then I’m back on the walk.

Starting to tire right here where Marine Avenue hits the walk. Maybe the pace was too fast, I always do this. Breathing hard, legs feeling like rubber. It’s too soon for this craziness. Slow down, easy . Taking the steps two at a time. Always have to take steps two at a time. Slowing, struggling. (19 minutes). Easy, take it easy.

C’mon music pull me up.

“You can dance you can sing. See that girl, watch that scene, dig it the dancing queen.”

By Rosecliff, and still struggling. Beechwood, same. Approaching Marble House and the Chinese Teahouse, starting to smooth out a bit. Reaching the tunnel, stop and see that it’s full of water. Okay, turning around (25 minutes).

Feeling something move within, settling.

Running back along the walk and starting to feel better. Yeah, better. Looking to First Beach in the faint distance, then over to Tuckerman, and Sachuest Point. Everything is steel gray, eerie stuff, haunting beauty, rain picking up a bit, surfers by the Breakers unfazed.

Not much wind but second wind. It’s coming back to me.

Starship: “If only you believe like I believe baby, we could fly.”

Never say never. Anything’s possible.

Heading back to the little beach and turning on to Marine Avenue, running inland. The surfers and fishermen park here. The tourists don’t know about it.  Running toward Ruggles past  Salve’s Carey mansion. Crossing Ruggles on to a kool path bisecting the university. Feeling really good, in neutral now, just gliding, the endless runner. Endorphins flowing, can run forever.

Everything right with the world. God running beside me.

“Give us the nice bright colors, give us the greens of summer, makes you think all the world’s a sunny day.”

Oh, this is heaven, please don’t let it ever end. I love this path. Scampering  across Victoria and on the path again. Effortless, baby.

Rain really picking up now. Pacing, faster. Okay, let’s pump up the volume.

I’m swirling and dancing inside.

“If only you believe like I believe, baby, we can fly. It’s so easy.”

Behind the Watts Sherman dorm, now it’s pouring, really pouring (35 minutes). I started to sweat back at the tunnel. This can be so irritating because the earphones tend to move around in my sweaty ears. And worse this time, my Red Sox cap is soaked and can’t absorb any more sweat so it’s running into my eyes, burning. But who cares?

Sweet!

I’m hopelessly romantic. Cliché I know. Running exposes you, just like love. You’re vulnerable: “Losing love is like a window in your heart. Everybody sees the wind blow. Everyone knows you’re blown apart.”

I’m running to Graceland where everyone will be received.

Crossing Lawrence and joining the path behind the library. There’s a humongous Beech tree here, about 40 feet high with branches touching the ground all the way around (I’d say 40-foot diameter), you could live underneath this tree and nobody would know it. Mighty branches like Anacondas  undulating along the ground and cakes to climb.  I run through the branches into the dark inner sanctum, and right out the other side–off toward Wakehurst.

Effortless!

I get my best ideas after 3 miles.  Just take a thought and run with it.

There’s nobody around here, and I’m in the zone. The pouring rain is so romantic and my thoughts move to the finer things in life.

Dylan comes up on the iPod, the harmonica starts to wail my favorite.

“Close your eyes, close the door, you don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll be your….baby tonight.

Shut the light, shut the shade, you don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be your….baby tonight.

Kick your shoes off, do not fear, bring that bottle over here. I’ll be your….baby tonight.”

Raining like crazy, cats and dogs everywhere. Jumped  puddles for a while, now just running through them. Loving it, still in the zone. Is that God behind the cloud? Laughing? Could be, baby! Is this a perfect world or what!

Trying to see through foggy glasses covered with water. Marley: “Open your eyes, look within.” Now I see.

Crossing Ochre Point Avenue to Ochre Court and then back on Cliff Walk (40 minutes). The number of people on the walk dramatically decreased. Of course, who’s crazy enough to be out in this downpour? Guess who?

I’m thinking, this would make an interesting story. Why don’t I write it?

“Space-cake break at the Titicaca Lake…

Asked for a dance at a bar in Port au France, got some more in Ecuador, went too far in Bogotá.”

A group of walkers huddling under one of those small rock overpasses along the walk. Not much room to get through what with the umbrellas and all.  I’m laughing and telling some lady to get out there in the rain. Can’t hear anything back, probably not appreciated. I nick an umbrella apologizing.

I take the stone stairs two at a time. I’m still in La La Land.

Onward to 40-Steps, again. Tour bus gone, people gone. Lost in space, bobbing, weaving. Thinking of my grandson, Finn. He could be a runner, but more likely a boxer, in the Irish tradition. Wiry little guy, with the “eye of the tiger.” Yeah, he’ll be kool (43 minutes).

The walk narrows, a couple stands perplexed looking down at a huge puddle blocking their way. She tentatively steps in, he steps aside. I stop and laugh “this is fun.” They counter “good stuff.” I’m slogging through with them. Off in a flash. “Take your passion, make it happen.”

Pure wonder dominating my thoughts. Streams of water running down my face, streams of consciousness running through my mind.

Surreal!

Legs are good, knee is fine. Breathing rhythmic.

Dylan again, taking me almost all the way back to First Beach.

“How does it feel to be on your own, with no direction home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone…

When you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose. You’re invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal…. how does it feel….to be on your own, no direction home like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone.” 

Okay, I was wrong back there. This is my favorite Dylan. I’m turning at Memorial heading down to the beach (50 minutes).

Now it’s CCR appropriately with “Have you Ever Seen the Rain?”

The downpour is letting up. The surfers are still out there, just riding. I cut off the sidewalk to run along the sand.

Junior Walker: “What does it take to win your love.  I just got to know baby, cause I love you so.”

There’s no one on the beach, only surfers in the water. I’m running with the seagulls, over clam shells and seaweed. I want to run for an hour, so I’ve got to keep going. But no matter, I still feel good. Don’t know why, but I do.

The tide is really low and I’m all the way down to the surf. Splashing along the edge of the waves, gradually, I’m drawn in, and now I’m running through the surf up to my ankles. Then sand sucks at my shoes trying to slow me down. I navigate.

Starship: “Precious love I give to you, blue as the sky and deep as the ocean, a love so true. 

You make me feel lost in the air of a love so real.

You can count on me. Count on my love.”

Now it’s just full-blown splashing. Me and the gulls, that’s pretty much it (55 minutes).

Hey, there’s one of those brown gulls. They told me the brown ones are youngsters. No way this guy’s bigger than the others.

Almost at the ABC (Atlantic Beach Club for those not in the know). And now it’s….The Hustle. Okay, I guess nobody likes disco anymore, but I do. It’s got power, you know? So positive.

I’m singing pretty loud. But, no one’s around

Turning at the ABC and heading back, trying to do more time. Running in the water again. And there it is: (one hour!)

And here she is: Vicki Sue Robinson. Yeah, more disco: “Turn the Beat Around.” Perfect song to end the run. I wait until the “rat-tat-tat on the drums” and head up (one hour and four minutes). What a trip, haven’t run this far in 10 years. Wow, the best.

Walking to the car with leaden legs, I get out my water bottle and walk back to the seawall to watch the surfers. As I sit down with the bottle, guess what? Beach Boys: “Surfin USA.”

Listen, these are random songs. This is an iPod Shuffle. Go figure!

So I’m sitting here watching the surfers. One guy has a spectacular wipe out. Like I said the waves are really big. Two guys beside me are “waxing down their surfboards.” Yeah, it’s real not just part of a song.

Starship: “You don’t know how much I love you. Oh, I’d like to put my arms around you.

I’d really like to come and see you. You don’t know how much I miss you.”

That says it all.

Thank you Steve Jobs. Thank you God!