Okay, so these shoes (see second last post) have changed
everything!
Heretofore I’d been writing that winter running poses too
many risks for a runner in his sixtieth year, i.e. icy pavements, black ice on
asphalt, wet slushy corners, especially those of the calf-deep variety that
come about in the too-soon thaws that follow a blizzard, leaving streets with
gallons of mud-colored soup at the lip of every sidewalk cut made to advantage
the disabled, who you have to wonder where the disabled have gone and how they’re
faring in the days (weeks!) it takes for Brooklyn sidewalks to be clear.
Which means the big outdoors, cross-country skiing in
Prospect Park, and running ! in my new shoes, the ones that promise sure footing
and relaxed spring, that somehow, miraculously, have helped to calm the fat
leg from my DVT I’ve been feeling in recent weeks, worrying me some but, then,
in these new shoes ! the feeling is just as it should be, and I’m back, right
where I want to be, floating along these hard and too smooth surfaces.
Back to looking around as I run in the cold and on the snow
and ice, falling into meditation. Second winds coming when they should,
actually back to the sublime idea that I will go on a run; in winter, or
summer, the season doesn’t matter, all with that indescribable feeling that I could
run forever.
Next: Running for Your Life: On Reznikoff
