Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky. – Deep Purple.
This morning, I thought it looked a bit misty as I pulled shut my hotel’s flimsy door. Only later did the smell of ash jog a memory from the wet noodle that is my brain.
Before I left and took a sabbatical from Facebook and social media, I recalled seeing a post to the Northwest Series group about wildfires in the area.
Today was the first day the reality of going into the eye of a brushfire confluence came into focus… or more accurately, hazy, ashen diffused particulates hanging in the air, and yes, smoke that got into my eyes, lungs, and soul.
With the lingering head cold and a nasty bit of “I’m not a doctor but I’m almost certain of my self-diagnosis” bronchitis, the air quality played a part in a slower pace. So too does the toll three previous days of marathoning. And as I predicted, the knowledge that the loops were long didn’t help my feet move any faster.
To be honest, the physical exhaustion has been a chronic issue due to insomnia, travel, and just general wear and tear. The mental and emotional exhaustion, both of which have waxed and waned (but more waxed than not) saw a rise in me today. Again, I’m not a psychiatrist but I’m almost certain I can point to the issues that weigh on me – there’s the obvious macro geopolitical clusterbomb of North Korea, Russian machinations, US abdication of moral and social justice and leadership. These are beyond my control yet still contribute to a darkness that envelops me. And there’s the obvious-to-me micro elements, the personal issues and miscues and missteps that I continue to grapple with on an individual level that ostensibly should be within my control and yet… and yet…
I’m not by nature a very good social creature. I’m pretty poor in groups and have a tendency to withdraw from larger gatherings. With the super early starts I try and get my run in and leave before too long, thus I know I’m missing out on the opportunity and privilege of cheering on some amazing people at this series. There are people on their feet, traversing the miles, enduring the heat for literally hours after I’ve gone back and had a shower and started posting things to my blog. They’re great people and I enjoy chatting with them… but I’m really not great at parties or gatherings. I may have a doctorate in Dazzling Conversation from summer 1999 but the shine is rusted on that if ever there was any.
And so this morning I found myself haunted by dark memories of the past and darker visions of the future. Amidst the smoky shoreline of the Snake River, on another iteration of loops and loops, I find myself slowing both in running and in existence. The repetitive cycle of going round and round, round and round, round and round may not have been the ideal means to breaking my mood.
The irony of course is that as supportive environments go, you’d be hard pressed to find a more enthusiastic and caring group than Mainly Marathons. That includes the people running the race and the people “running the race” behind the scenes. One of these days, I should tell them that. Maybe once I break my social media fast, I’ll post a little note to the group page and say thank you. Though it doesn’t always work as a magic bullet to cure what ails me, it’s certainly not because they aren’t amazing. More likely it’s a failing in me.
The point of all this is that I didn’t take a lot of photos. I’m not even sure I know what I was doing this morning during the run – I just kinda went round and round. For the first time this series, I popped in my headphones and shuffled songs on my iPod (yes, I still have an iPod. It works fine. Yet it like me is soon to be if not already relegated to the dustbin of past its prime usefulness).
I did try and snap a better photo of the “ewe” turn black cone:
And I made some efforts to document the red sun that would break through the smoky haze.
But my photos paled in comparison to the work of Dennis R Smeltzer who shared this lovely pic with the MM group (I may not be on Facebook at the moment but there is more than one way to steal a photo from someone):
What’s the old saying? Red skies in morning, sailors take warning? Red sun in morning, runners heed warning? Red sun in morning, Superman is a powerless mortal? I don’t know. Google it.
Unofficial timing results for the day:
Tomorrow it’s on to Hells Gate State Park in Lewiston, ID… which is about 5.5 miles from today’s event.