Running for Your Life: Two Books to Read Next

“Red Son of God” meets “The Earth Is Weeping.”

What strikes me about these books of history (the former by Louis S. Warren and the latter by Peter Cozzens) is how little real progress has been made in understanding the plight of others.

Fake news? Just exactly what were the facts on the ground during the years covered in these titles (1860s-1890s)? Who spoke for the conquered, the Native American tribes, in the case of these accounts, those facing western expansion in the Plains states and Near West, and those ill-fated adherents of the Ghost Dance ("Red Son of God") that for a period in 1890 was as popular as Instagram is in 2017 with millennials? (Albeit the Ghost Dance, seen as a mystical portal of millenarian prophecies, seems better suited to use the term “millennials” to describe its believers.)

Accounts such as these, written a century and a half after the events themselves, deliver a home truth … It can take that long to set the record straight when it comes to public affairs.

If you don’t have the facts, you don’t even have “news” to fake.

Did “The Earth Is Weeping,” about the Indian Wars of 19^th century America, get big press when it was published last fall? Well, the author did go on tour: to Atlanta, Chicago, Kansas City, St. Louis and Washington, DC. Not to the entertainment centers of New York and LA.

The Indian Wars have never made the headlines to match the importance of their role in the settling of America, which, startlingly, offers a mirror to just how tribal American political life is today.

Hopefully the facts as described in Cozzens’ book aren’t a surprise to Native Americans, especially when it comes to these descriptions of one esteemed leader, Crazy Horse:

“He dressed plainly, lived in poverty, and gave his best horses and the fruits of the hunt to the poor.”

“He shunned councils and peace talks – or anything that smacked of politics, scheming or intrigue.”

Crazy? Our politics could use a little Crazy Horse right about now.

Next: Running for Your Life: Men and Women of the Jury

Running for Your Life: Tribal Bible

When it comes to cutting through the mind-numbing noise, the daily drip-drip-drip of bluster and bombast that accounts for commentary about public and civic events in America today, essayist Andrew Sullivan is a breath of fresh air.

And so it is this month, with his deft observations and reasoned arguments surrounding the question of just how tribal we can be.

My contribution? Given that not one but three of my long-ago mailed first class letters have gone missing, a pal wrote to say I should consider Going Postal over the US Post Office.

To which, I replied: Wanna find something Dems, GOP, alt-right, alt-left, Black Lives Matter-ers can get behind? Going Postal on the US Post Office.

My friend responds, “Our country, united at last!”

Levity aside, this is serious stuff that Andrew Sullivan is writing.

To reduce myself to the simplicity of what the kids say … Read. This. Now. http://nym.ag/2jJPMXU

Next: Running for Your Life: Two Books to Read Next

Running for Your Life: Hills Are Alive

Don’t underestimate the importance of hills.

When it comes to a runner nerd post, this might take the cake. If it’s not for you, stop now. (You’ve been warned …)

So many of these running-specific posts come down to the question of, How Do You Motivate Yourself to Keep Going? Not how do you keep your body fit enough to do so, but your mind.

One answer: Hills Are Alive.

Park Slope, Brooklyn, where I’ve lived for 27 years, is named “slope” for a reason. From my address below Sixth Avenue, the road is pitched upward to get to Prospect Park, which is not exactly flat land itslef. In fact, there are two hills on the 3.3-mile Outer Drive run. And plenty of hilly expanses mid-park.

Running outside I head for those hills. So much so that even in a quick 30-minute run, I’m probably spending 7-10 minutes going uphill. 

My mind, in fact, demands that I choose the most uphill challenge. (In the 3½ block run to the park, I chose to go up the most vertical in my vicinity, Fifth Street.) In that half-hour run, I don’t lope around, but rather test myself in the rocky hills mid-park.

When I return home I’m psyched with how much better I feel than when I left. Only 30 minutes? But a lifetime of them, keeping the hills alive within me, has made quite a difference in how I manage my day, my months, my years ...

Next: Running for Your Life: Two Books to Read Next

Running for Your Life: Latest Word About Shoes

Forty-plus years of running every other day has taught me a thing or two about how to keep going.

I’ve written here about how it pays to listen to your body. In my running life, it’s been a steady stream of nagging concerns: hamstrings, knees, heels, shin splints, feet, feet, feet, toenails.

So I’m here to tell you that your shoes are Job One. In my case, Brooks Defyance. And orthotics, which were prescribed to me once upon a time when my neuroma was particularly acute.

Job Two is a running foot doctor of a podiatrist. Somebody who will head out the door to watch your gait to see just how you are striking the ground, favoring one side of your foot over the other. Then make adjustments according to that careful monitoring.

Usually blog posts like this will advocate a particular shoe. Yeah, I’ve found a friend in the Brooks Defyance, as have a majority of marathon runners, according to reports I’ve seen. More important is paying attention to pain – So much so that in my case, to guard against the nagging concerns listed above I don’t go out the door for my routine runs until I’m wearing patella bands around my knees, compression socks up my calves and orthotics in my Brooks.

As to shoes, take the time to go to a runner’s shoe store and seek out the advice of the pros there. (In my neighborhood, I trust the folks at JackRabbit.) Then buy, run and assess the damage later. As in 

40-plus years later, if you sweat the details.

Next: Running for Your Life: Hills Are Alive

Running for Your Life: A Life in Letters

I’ve got a few.

Letters, that is.

More so than journalism I’ve done, or my two books (and three unpublished ones), I will reread my letters from time to time.

Love letters, some of them. Blasts from old pals. A thunderbolt or two from a family member.

There is something about letters, both old and new, that’ll stir my juices. Like a dog who suddenly comes upon a long-lost pack pal, his tail a-wagging to beat the band.

As to my current letter-writing life, so far, so good. Rather than write in my diary today (Sept. 7), I could be writing a letter – I owe one to a relatively new friend in New Haven, Conn. But I don’t feel it as an obligation. I actually can’t wait until I have enough free time to reread his letter (with delicate pen drawings, in his case) in order to best shape my reply.

This blogpost isn’t going to mark the distinction between a life in letters versus a life in pocket computers (What most people call “phones”).

Draw your own conclusions. Enough said is how I put it in my latest novel. (More about that later, I hope …) I realize my sermonettes here aren’t likely to be changing any hearts and minds. To each his own, I say.

I just gotta crow. This life in letters I’m leading gives me so much pleasure – and it relates to two of the blog’s three themes: running, reading and writing. As in the letters I’ve been writing to my dear 85-year-old mom. I only wish I had have started writing them more regularly years ago.

But, as they say, there is no time like the present.

Especially when it comes to a life in letters.

Next: Running for Your Life: Latest Word About Shoes