I stood in my backyard last night. Just before 1 a.m. It wasn't meant to be a symbolic moment. In truth, I was just letting the dogs out to pee before calling it a night. But in the crisp darkness and 50 degree temperature I call California-cold, I looked up at the sky and saw the three bright diagonal stars of Orion's belt blazing just above. Ptolemy named Orion one of the original 48 constellations back in the 2nd Century. Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. Each is more than 1,200 light years away. I traced the asterism known as Sword of Orion, dangling straight down from the belt. If you know where to look, there is also Betelgeuse and the shoulders and the shape of a great hunter.
GREEN ARROWS
I usually blog on Sunday while watching NFL Red Zone. The rest of the week is for regular creativity. But tomorrow is the Southern Section Cross Country Championships and I'm a little preoccupied with race strategy, the rain currently pelting Southern California, and oblique terms like “green arrows” and “tight spread.”
PROMOTIONS AND PRESALES
CREATIVITY
"Creativity is contagious. When we spend time with other artistic people we absorb and exchange a way of thinking, a way of looking at the world," writes Rick Rubin in The Creative Act. I'm still tiptoeing through this very patient treatise. It's one of those books you read slowly and thoughtfully, not rushing through each line to better absorb each word.
FLY YOUR FLAG
I am trying to give up doom scrolling. The algorithm knows me well, sucking me in and holding my attention. I don't usually pay attention until the evening, when Callie and I are hanging out and I'm not too interested in another episode of SVU.
Doom scrolling doesn't feel toxic in the moment, but in the four nights I have avoided looking at my phone I've slept better. No anxious 3 am wakeup, no need to take deep calming breaths in the darkness. I often lie there and wonder what I'm worried about and have absolutely no answer.
LATE NIGHT
I left the meet at 11 p.m. Long, solitary walk to the farthest realm of the parking lot. Footsore from 17,000 steps. Hungry. Thirsty. Satisfied.
Woodbridge is the biggest high school cross country meet in the country — some 16,000 runners strong. Fifty-two races spread over two nights. The best runners in America. Flood lights, drum lines loud as beating hearts, pure unmitigated speed. Food trucks, hundred thousand spectators, subdivision of team canopies lining the course. Woodbridge is Disneyland, the happiest place on earth for runners who've trained in solitude through a long hot summer….
THE BARGAIN
The chemo ward is open on Labor Day, which is probably a good thing for my cross country teams. I might have said some things I regretted, were I with them at this morning's practice. Instead, I'm here with Callie while they go through an early morning workout on our league course. It's going to be hot today so it's important to get it done early. That, and the fact that Central Park in Huntington Beach will soon be overrun by all manner of picnickers, including a volleyball league fond of setting up their nets right in the middle of our course.
PLAYTIME
Sorry the blog's a little late this week. Sunday was a road trip and Monday was an intense writing session. My editor correctly saw the need for three well-placed new chapters for The Long Run. Between morning and afternoon practice I found a sweet groove and wrote those chapters in one sitting. That's a lot.