Adrift

I was sitting on what seemed like a paper plane, with my seat belt securely fastened, drifting through space, 30,000 feet above Indiana or Ohio.  Actually I didn’t really know where I was, but it was very dark on the other side of the thick oval window and I imagined my hand would instantaneously freeze off if stuck my arm into cold air flying past at 500 miles an hour. 

No Drama

About to cross the finish line

After twenty miles, I slowly crossed the Willis Avenue Bridge and entered the Bronx.  Despite the deep thumping base and encouraging words from DJ Leon Martin on the corner of 135^th Street, I was questioning why I was doing this.  My knees ached, my left foot felt like a nail was being hammered through the bottom of my Saucony running shoes into my heel on every step, and my right calf was cramping so bad I would repeatedly screamed out, “FUCK!” every 400 feet, it was like I had Tourette's. What was I trying to prove? 

Running Down a Dream

Despite being sick for the past three weeks and just finishing a course of antibiotics, I still plan to run the New York Marathon Sunday. I called my pulmonologist yesterday to ask for help as my asthma wasn't cooperating either. He responded hesitantly, you're still running? He doesn't get it.  The 26.2 mile course travels through all five boroughs and is lined with millions of cheering New Yorkers, then finishes in Central Park. I will be one of 40,000 other runners on Sunday chasing a dream.

Up and Away

Sometimes the road gets tough, yet sometimes I experience a glimpse of humanity and I’m lifted up. Sunday I ran the Maine Half Marathon for the fifth consecutive year. With nearly four thousand runners, the race is one of the most popular in the state.

Start of Maine Marathon-Half Marathon Portland, Maine 2013

 I remember my first one quite clearly and while it was only four years ago, it seems worlds away. My colleagues had challenged each other to train over the summer and run the race in early October.  I was looking for the feeling of being part of something and started training in June.  While I had been a runner in high school, that was twenty-five years earlier, plus I had other priorities and diversions that I used as excuses to keep me from running for years.

In New York, Living

Like so many other participants who attended last week’s training for transgender organizers, I arrived in New York City on Tuesday evening.  The first part of my trip ended at The Port Authority in midtown Manhattan after a 5^1/2- hour bus ride from Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  After successfully navigating the three flights of escalators I emerged into the perpetual light of 7^th Avenue.  With my carry-on bag and over packed suitcase filled with way too many shoes, I started walking south to my waiting hotel and the other conference participants 20 blocks away. In New York people don’t get out of the way and they rarely smile.  I felt like an Atlantic salmon swimming upstream encountering damn after damn along the way.  After five or so blocks, my feet started to hurt and my back ached from sitting for so long, with a little guilt I hailed-down a cab to carry me to my destination, a Holliday Inn on 26^th street in Chelsea.

Kids are Alright VI - Be Gone and Live

I woke up the other morning to the sound of the school bus that passes by my house at 6:40 every school day.  It startled me out my sleep as it was the first day of school and I hadn’t heard the hum of that diesel engine with its large rubber tires hurtling down my country road all summer.  For years I used to gauge my mornings by the flash of yellow passing by my house, knowing I should be grabbing my lunch bag and coffee by that then to make it school on time, but not that morning.

Bring a Peace to my Soul

I there something wrong with me?  Looking back over that past few weeks, I wonder if my colonoscopy was the highlight.  Trust me, I rather be writing about returning to teaching, the job and career I have dedicated my life pursuing, or writing about my new girlfriend, the one with long fragrant chestnut brown hair.  The one I hold like a doll made of china. The one who ignores me as I stare into her blue eyes that are as deep as the Atlantic Ocean, but I can’t, because I don’t have a girlfriend and I don’t have a job.