Patience; the new endurance sport.

A word about my treadmill.  I looooove it so much it brings grateful tears to my eyes. It's a NordicTrak7000 model with an extra long wood deck.  I bought it 5 years ago and have never once regretted how much money I paid for it (I do miss my arm and leg, however).  The motor, the deck, and the belt have been meticulously matainted and I am so very grateful to have it in my house when it is 12 degrees and dark outside at 6:00 a.m.  So, since my grand return to the treadmill I think I will post my movie reviews because the treadmill and the weather combined have me hanging to 10MM for dear life.  I feel like a hero just for running at all-- forget any fast running. Anyway, after watching 'Yes Man' last week, I wanted to find another movie that sported an equally positive and 'anything's possible' message. So I tried to watch Field of Dreams, which I never saw when it was new.  I don't think I have ever hated a movie as much as I hated Field of Dreams. I have tried not to hate Kevin Cosner, because I wanted to like Dances with Wolves, but now it's official. He's an idiot. OK, Field of Dreams was a movie about grown-up teenagers from the 60's trying desperately to find meaning in the transcendental time they wasted being on LSD at Berkely and dissing their parents who died before anyone could appologize for being stupid teenagers.  However, rather than accept the responsiblity for being idotic and young, the middle-aged hippes begin to give creedence to their lingering acid flashbacks, and build a baseball diamond in the middle of an Iowa cornfield so they can make money on  other people and/or ghosts, who also are having acid flashback and equally searching to place value on their much wated time as hippies,or who once played baseball for the major leagues but are now dead.  Baseball, of course being the symbol of 'old America' and of their parents traditional values.  However, the baseball field & the players, as well as any meaning to the time young people lost in the 1960's to civil disobedience, preservation of  American 'freedom', and of course drugs, turns out to be wasted and imaginary-- lost on the rest of the sane people, particularly those running on a treadmill at 6:00 a.m. The end.  Join me next week when I review: Food, Inc.

I had to drive to Salt Lake and back in really terrible weather, and when I returned, it was almost sunny down here.  I took my lunch time on the trail, trying not to slide into trees or smack my head on the pavement.  It's interesting, I enjoy running in the snow and ice so much I think it's because I know I can't go really fast.  Just like driving to Salt Lake today.  The snow forces you to slow down (if you're smart you will).  I'd be a much better person, more together and calm if I could just go slower.  The day was breathtaking.  I only saw two others on the trail--which had been plowed, by the way!  A young BYU cross country runner and two older runner guys with a pit bull.  I day dreamed the whole run and let my eyes fall over the landscapes made soft and pure by the snow, cut in half by the thick dark river water.  Down by the lake I found my hawk who followed me by flying ahead, perching, and watching me run underneath him.  He changed trees by flying ahead of me 4 times (about .2 of a mile).  My Dad loved hawks and owls.  I  see this hawk fairly often.  It makes me think of my Dad to see him.  I wonder if perhaps that hawk is my animal spirit guide (totem).  I'm so deeply impressed by his size, nobility, and grace.

OK. Hi.  Its 4 degrees outside.  I am not exaggerating.  It's really, truly 4 degrees.  It was 2 degrees at 6:00 a.m.  Luckily Marsha talked me into going to the BYU track.  I have never run around a track, except in X-country in high school.  I don't like to do any kind of exercise that requires me to get in my car to go somewhere to do it.  I hate the gym, I am allergic to chlorine, I prefer to avoid sweaty people I don't know,  it uses gas and takes precious time I do not have.  Even the smallest impediment (like having to drive somewhere to exercise) will stop me from doing it.  Which is why I live where I live.  If I couldn't walk out my door and be on the river trail in 15-30 seconds, I don't know if running would appeal to me, and I am not running down a city street to breath exhaust. So anyway, Marsha offered to drive us.  It was like getting chauffeured! I walked out my door, got into the car, she delivered me to the track, and then took me home.  I offered to drive, but she has to drop her daughter off at swim practice anyway.  How lucky is that?  The track, by the way, is like magic.  While it's boring to run in a circle over and over again (there are a few interesting things to look at, mostly the young handsome group of ROTC and the pictures of the past 20 years of BYU track stars), the track is made of rubber or something.  5 miles was like a walk in the park.  It left my legs and hips feeling like new.  I mean NOTHING hurt or ached at all afterwards.  All this running in sub-teen temps leaves me feeling like I'm 90 years old, arthritic and brittle. Hooray for the track!  At least for today.