Chilly Cleveland, TENNESSEE

Like many times before in frigid weather I read and tended to various tasks early in the morning waiting for the sun to rise. Usually this gives the temperature a slight bump up a degree or two. This day it increased from 27 to 30 degrees. I lamented more than necessary before finally leaving the hotel for a run in Cleveland, Tennessee.

Upon exiting the hotel I noticed an addition to the cold and windy morning, a constant stream of snow fell. Oddly, my immediate thought was this will be nice. Cold is not of any interest to me whatsoever yet since we see so little snow in the Atlanta area the novelty of it held a strong appeal. Make no mistake the excitement of snow wasn't as powerful as the joy of running in a new city. I got going and took it all in, the rolling hills and falling snow.

In a mile and a half I entered the Bradford County Greenway.  I watched a magnificent Great Blue Herron gliding in for a landing near a small stream. The bird descended as effortlessly as the frozen white flakes. The Heron landed in a landscape that could easily have been the backdrop for a Thomas Kinkade painting. I enjoyed the experience of the cold crystals, including the ones landing on my face. All my senses were engaged and invigorated. 

The chilly run left me ready for a great day of exploring even more of Cleveland. Shannan and I visited a local museum, ate lunch at The Spot, an historic diner, and made some purchases in local shops. We had a riverboat cruse planned, but it was cancelled due to inclement weather. Who's afraid of a little snow?!

Do something different. Run in the snow.

Tom

Marking my place in the world

12 years ago I arranged a birthday day party for myself, one of only two. As party favors each attendee received a small booklet entitled, 3 Decades of LaPorte: Poetry, Pictures, Prose and Propaganda. During the evening I read two short pieces from the collection which I wrote especially for the occasion. One reminisced about a tattoo of my initials on my shoulder. I mocked it as immature, yet honored it as marking my life as it was in my teen years.

That tattoo was homemade and didn’t cost me anything more than a little pain and time. Today I had my first (more to follow) visit with a professional to have the tattoo removed via laser. The pain was less this go around, but the cost was much more. I know tattoos continue to grow in popularity and cultural meaning in this country and others. For me, the ink on my arm represents a social location far removed. I don’t wear short sleeve shirts because of the tattoo. I decided it was time to make a change. The tattoo served its purpose, sometimes better than others. Nowadays I look for new, less permanent ways, to identify myself in the world, like posting a health and fitness blog.

Run well.

Tom

Running with the Roosters

Istanbul has many mosques and masjids, including the Hagia Sofia and Sultan Ahmed, better known as the Blue Mosque. When the call to prayer comes in Istanbul, it is overwhelming and powerful. I felt the voice of the Adhan reverberate in my very being as I ran in the early morning. It made the trip memorable.

A sunrise run in the Village of Fair Oaks, CA worked my auditory senses in a similar manner, yet not religious or human driven by any means. Roosters, many roosters announce the new day with the classic onomatopoeia: cock-a-doodle-do. The crows of the feathered males echoed across every city block of downtown of Fair Oaks. I heard them long before I entered the town square. Closer and closer the volume grew as well as the number. Along the way I passed a few rosters waddling about yards, businesses and sidewalks. The intensity and repetitiveness of their morning call was compelling. When I reached the center of town it was like a surreal dream. Roosters roamed everywhere. Most passively went about their business, others aggressively protected their domain from other roosters and from me.

I noticed many business and signs that had images of the roosters. The creatures were indeed a symbol of the town. There was a rooster shaped stop sign to allow the birds to cross the road, and a shop filled with chicken related paraphernalia. It was sort of neat to see this symbiotic relationship. This beckoning to start the day is much different than the Islamic call to prayer, but I found it a very nice way to welcome the day.


Start the day with a run.

Tom

Waiting and the American River

A temperature of two degrees below zero and darkness kept me sitting around very early in the morning in a suburb of Sacramento, CA. Around 6:30am I bounded out toward the American River. Fishermen, boaters, runners, dog walkers and an abundance of wildlife awaited. I navigated narrow dirt trails, river rocks and gravel as I deeply appreciated the surrounding tapestry of options for the naturalist and exerciser. Mist rising, the sun cresting and a variety of creatures singing songs of the morning inspired and invigorated. I never tire of opportunities in life like this one. Many of them take place when we are out of town, yet another fabulous benefit of travel. Other than the lovely morning run, we had a day planned to visit Shenandoah wine country. The day’s agenda caused me to spend less time along the American River than I wanted. I hurried back to join the group. By the time I arrived they had breakfasted and were ready to go. Regrets? Not a one. If I had started sooner I would not have been able to enjoy the fabulous scenery in the light of day. It was a perfect way to start the day. The memories linger much more so than the fleeting irritation I caused. Start the day with a run. Tom