Running for Your Life: If the Greats Were With Us Thursday

What do you do for openers, Patrick White (1912-1990)? If you’re interested in one of the truly gifted novelists, get a load of these first words. With a shoutout to John Blanton who turned me on to the power of Patrick’s prose.

The old woman’s head was barely fretting against the pillow. She could have moaned slightly.

–        The Eye of the Storm

“There is a man here, miss, asking for your uncle,” said Rose.

And stood breathing.

–        Voss

As the carriage drew back from Circular Wharf, Mr. Stafford Merivale tapped the back of his wife’s hand and remarked that they had done their duty.

–        Fringe of Leaves

And my favorite:

A cart drove between the two big stringybarks and stopped. These were the dominant trees in that part of the bush, rising above the involved scrub with the simplicity of true grandeur. So the cart stopped, grazing the hairy side of a tree, and the horse, shaggy and stolid as the tree, sighed and took root.

–        Tree of Man

Next: Running for Your Life: Thurber!

Running for Your Life: Sentences on Fire

You may have missed it, but “City on Fire” was the US literary publishing event of last year – according to all the most important press (the New Yorker, the New York Times – not the Post, I’m proud to say, whose headline called it “A steaming pile of literary dung.” Or in text, “The only thing ‘City on Fire’ will burn up is the remainder tables”).

In her review of the steaming pile, which set back the publisher a cool $2 million, critic Elisabeth Vincentelli gives us cause to feel the way she does by quoting a sentence from the book itself, to wit:

“Against the flames, Felicia’s body was a smudge, save for her mask, whose red sequins shimmered intelligently.”

Two months later, a second critic, Carmen Petaccio, delivers the goods in The Awl. This you have read to believe. For hours of giggly fun, click here:  http://bit.ly/1ZRX8GY

As to my personal favorites of Petaccio’s literature police takedown, consider:

“The sun over Jersey was medium rare.”

“Hairs snowed crimson on the formica.”

“Looks like you got a real shitstorm on your hands, Pulaski.”

And the piece de resistance of schadenfreude delight,

“Great rolls of toilet paper arc like ejaculate through the black sycamores.”

Next: Running for Your Life: If the Greats Were With Us Thursday

Running for Your Life: Straight Ahead, Mac

These old knees are masquerading as young knees again. It's been almost three months since I blew out my left knee during an ill-advised stepped-up training for the 2015 edition of the Brooklyn Marathon.

My advice for others looking for such a recovery? Don't have surgery on your knees -- or any joints, unless you absolutely have no other option. I was lucky with my knee. I didn't suffer any structural damage. Near as anybody can figure -- and when it comes to the threat of higher malpractice costs, it's amazing that doctors tell us anything at all -- something called the IT band slipped out of place along the left side of my left leg and went for a short trip over the knee cap and back into place again, inflaming nerve endings and otherwise causing killer-painful discomfort and wobbliness that lasted for weeks.

What has got me back on track? Physical therapy, in which I strengthened the muscles around my knees, through a 80-minute regimen built around lunges and squats.

Slow and steady. Straight ahead, Mac. I feel the knee start to squawk when it feels lateral stress (for now tennis, a passion of mine, is out of the question.)

I'm still jogging, not running. But my knees feel as good as new. Hit 3.7 miles today (Jan. 26) in a 40-minute run on the treadmill.

It is such a great pleasure to be back at it. When you are used to running every other day for going on 40 years, you miss it.

Many people stop running following an injury. I certainly understand why. But if, after injury, you can find your way to avoiding surgery and finding a no-nonsense, hands-on sports rehab practice, you can beat the odds and, yes, if the gods are with you, run for your life.

Next: Running for Your Life: Sentences to Fear

Running for Your Life: Winter Storm Jonas ??

When it comes to blizzards – no matter how great, as this one (on Jan. 23^rd) most certainly was – they should not come with a name.

Blizzards – and for that matter hurricanes and tropical storms – should not be the equivalent of pets. They are less golden retriever than wild boar. If it were possible, some people who shoot to kill a blizzard just as they would shoot to kill a charging boar hog. They wouldn’t be naming it before they pulled the trigger.

What’s more, it just doesn’t catch on. In the three days since Jan. 23, not a single person asked me how I was enjoying Jonas. Perhaps if its name were Donald or Ted or Marco, then, yeah, folks would be gassing on about Donald this and Marco that. But Jonas just didn’t fly.

Does it have to do with meteorologists not getting enough respect? That like the Entertainment Tonight folks they need to be associated with celebrities? Not Brad and Beyonce and Kim. But Katrina, Sandy and Jonas.

Sad. Not Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD. Just sad.

Next: Running for Your Life: Straight Ahead, Mac

Running for Your Life: Going Outside, Baby !

Yes, Run for Your Life!

Post-physical therapy treatment, the parameters have shifted with a new resolve in strengthening (in keeping with my approach to stretching and a faith in muscle balance that will help in my continuing recovery).

And, I’m back outdoors. (Not in the blizzard [Jan. 22-24] but …) To date, I’ve not done any better than a three-mile jog that takes me thirty-five minutes. (Don’t do the math.)

A comedown from marathon training, I know. Call me a slow learner. It’s taken me more than a year to admit to myself that you can’t push a weakened body any more than you can push a late model car (Yes, 1993 Volvo 850!) without investing in repairs when needed.

Step by step. Soon, I hope, I’ll work my way up to once around Prospect Park and home, a four-mile run. I’ll be doing that. Count on it. But as a stronger, wiser athlete. Because, as the blog title indicates, I’ve no alternative. It’s been a great, long ride – now’s time to embrace a little slowness – in order to make it a longer ride !

Next: Running for Your Life: Winter Storm Jonas ??

Running for Your Life: David Bowie (1947-2016)

David Bowie (1947-2016)

"You've got your mother in a whirl

She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl

Hey babe, your hair's alright

Hey babe, let's go out tonight

You like me, and I like it all

We like dancing and we look divine

You love bands when they're playing hard

You want more and you want it fast

They put you down, they say I'm wrong

You tacky thing, you put them on ...

Hot tramp, I love you so!"

(From Rebel Rebel)

When it comes to rock 'n' roll expression, David Bowie didn't flinch. I can't think of Bowie and his "be wild child" mantra and not think of a pal who died too young. Doug Marshall (1955-1976). He adored Bowie and his music with the sweet clarity of a thousand glittering lights. 

Bowie, too, died too young. But what a Force he was !

Next: Running for Your Life: Going Outside, Baby !