Running

I have been running for 27 years. I started running to control the battle of the buldge. I still do, but it has taken on much more in my life. It is a part of my day. Running gets me outside in the pre-dawn stillness. I enjoy this quiet time. I get to experience the subtle differences in the environment as the seasons change. Running for me is spiritual in addition to the physical benefits I receive.



Running a marathon was a goal I had set and achieved several times. That served as a good model for other accomplishments I would make in life. I wrote this poem on Saturday August 2, 2003 to express some of my feelings about this part of my day.

---

Running


5:00 AM

Roll out of bed

Cobwebs in my head

Strap on those shoes

It’s time to choose

Run or stay in bed



Moving slow

Creaking toes

Walking toward the door

Pass by the sink

Take a drink

I’m starting to think clear



Breaking dawn

Get it on

Feel the humid air

Walk down the drive

I’m alive

I’m starting to feel strong



Stretch those calves

Those hams, those quads

Kinks are working out

Start to move

Feel the groove

I’m starting on my route



Heartbeat is fine

Keeping time

Shoes pounding on the street

Body moves

Breaking through

I’m halfway through my beat



Breathing fast

I’m gonna last

Stretching out that stride

Finish line

I made good time

Go on and seize the day!

---

Until the next time

John Strain

Tying the Knot

I went to a wedding Friday night. My running buddy Neil and his new wife Angelique tied the knot. The event was very nice despite some pestering torrential downpours just prior to the festivities. The venue was a popular event center just out of town far enough to be considered country. With all the rain the frogs and other night creatures combined their audible forces to compose a beautiful swamp symphony. I enjoy being out at night in south Louisiana when this music of the night is being played.



Inside, the plantation-like building was decorated with lots of white, tables with table cloths and rose petals sprinkled about. Candles, music, people, food, and an open bar all blended to make the spot for this wedding just right.



The ceremony was traditional and came off with a “hitch.” Neil and Angelique that is. Angelique was given away by her son. Neil’s sons were his best men. I got a kick out of the ring bearer, an 8 year old boy. Throughout the ceremony which must have seemed like eons to him, he was twisting from side to side, head pivoting and rocking, ring pillow hanging from his hand and being flailed around more like a catcher’s mitt than a sacred holder for the eternal symbols of love. Children have a way of leveling things. When kids are around, thankfully, there is a cap on seriousness.



Still the ceremony held the solemnity weddings are supposed to hold. The couple and guests once again listened to the marriage vows and if they were like me felt a lump in their throat and at least one tear.



After the ceremony the father of the bride gave a heart warming and humorous speech which served to share some intimate facts about the bride and groom and to welcome Neil into his family. The first dance was to a beautiful female vocal number, then the party began with the familiar French phrase: “Laissez Les Bon Temps Roule” LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL.



In Louisiana when a pig is roasted it is referred to as a “cochon de lait” (coo shawn d lay). That is a French term translated literally meaning “pig in milk.” A suckling pig is used and cooked in a pit. The men stay outside cooking the pig and drinking while the women prepare other delicacies inside. Cochon de lait is more than just cooking it is a party and Friday night was no exception.



At a time when all eyes were on the kitchen door, it flung open and a chef dressed in white led a procession ringing a bell. He was followed by two other chefs carrying the pig on a board. The pig was still in one piece head and all. When they arrived at the serving area it was lit and flamed up in spectacular fashion. I don’t know what was on it to do that. I am guessing some kind of alcohol was the combustant. Then the chef opened the pig allowing the concealed jambalaya to pour out. Jambalaya is a separate staple here in Louisiana. It is a rice and meat dish. The meat is usually pork, sausage, chicken, and or shrimp.



From that point on it is freestyle eating, drinking, dancing, and letting the good times roll. I enjoyed myself and feel like I did my part to celebrate this new union.



I did have a few thoughts throughout the evening I will throw in at this point. First of all Barbara and I took a wrong turn and went way out of our way on the way to the wedding. All dressed up an didn’t know where to go. After 20 years of marriage though we avoided dumping our anxieties on each other in the form of blame. “Why didn’t you find out where this place was???” I hate being late, but we were going to be late. Thankfully when we got there the ceremony had not started.



It is funny how wedding talk usually gets this reaction from men. “Is he crazy? What does he think he is doing? Hey man, you are about to lose your freedom.” I think you get the idea. Speaking for myself, who has uttered one or more of the above phrases, it is just good natured ribbing. Or for those of us who are already married it is a “misery loves company” thing. Just kidding again.



The unity candle always makes me nervous. On a table stands one big unlit candle and two smaller lit candles on either side. The couple picks up a lit candle which is a symbol of their life. They at one time light the center candle signifying the union THEN blow out their candle. My recommendation is to light the center candle and let the other two candles continue to burn.



My thinking is that a relationship adds a component to an individual. The group is more than the sum of the parts. The group does not negate an individual. Two people with a strong sense of self and individuality make for a good marriage. The marriage part is more about commitment than it is about losing yourself.



So that was what I did on my Friday night. It was a great time. One more lift of the glass for Neil and Angelique. Best of luck to you both.



Until the next time,

John Strain

Things are Looking Up

Yes sir, it’s the weekend again - yeeeeehaaa! Things are looking up. I love Friday’s because no matter how busy or crazy things get - it is still FRIDAY. I look forward to my Friday nights. The whole weekend is before me, full of possibilities. A little work a lot of fun. No special plans for me this weekend. My running partner Neil is getting married Friday night so I am hoping the reception has an open bar. Saturday is yard work and do what I feel like day. Sunday? Who knows that is too far in the future.



My favorite thing about the weekend is getting together with friends and having a meal. We go out quite a bit, sometimes we BBQ. Eating, drinking, and laughing - my kind of stuff. During this time we share our week’s experiences, comment on the world and local news, talk about how better things would run if the government just took our advice, haha. These relationships I count as my greatest treasure.



I hope you are equally rich and I hope you enjoy your weekend.



Until the next time,

John Strain

Enjoying A Cup of Joe

I started drinking coffee when I was 15. At the time I lived in the Kansas City area and I had a job working on a newspaper truck delivering the “Kansas City Star”. My particular job was to deliver about 120 newspapers to an apartment complex. Lots of walking and carrying a heavy bag of morning news. By the way, you probably do not realize the effort it takes to get that newspaper to your door. I had to get up at 2:30 AM to do the job. I slept through a lot of school. Winter time was the toughest. My first cup of coffee was in the winter of my 15th year.



My dad was a letter carrier. He was usually up reading the paper about the time I came crawling in from my route. One frigid winter day he offered me a cup of coffee. He told me it would warm me up, but I knew it would also make me a man so I took him up on his offer.



Yuck! I thought to myself as I took that first sip, but the words that came out meant for my dad were more like Andy Griffith drinking a cup of Maxwell House, “ummmmmm uh, that’s good coffee.”



Since that time I have drank about 10 million cups of coffee. I like it black because that is less complicated. I occasionally get a cafe’ aulait if someone is making an afternoon coffee run. I like the dark roast. I like the dark beers too, but I will save beer talk for another blog.



I love the smell of coffee in the morning. The sound of the pot making its noises as it pumps the water over the beans is part of a home’s heart beat. I like a fresh cup when I get to work. I like a nice hot cup after dinner - sometimes with a little Bailey’s Irish Cream.



On a cool rainy day there is nothing better than piping hot coffee. The sight of a thermos alone is a soothing image. A wait at a doctor’s office or hospital waiting room is much easier when coffee is nearby. You may be drinking it now - take another sip. Joe, brew, battery acid, Java, nectar of the gods - whatever you call it - it is a staple of life.



Non coffee drinkers keep trying to say it causes high blood pressure, nervousness, and any number of ailments. I say, “so what.” It is worth it for a nice cup of coffee in the morning.



I drank coffee before you needed to take out a loan to buy a cup. It is easy these days to pay $3, $4, even $5 for a cup at Starbucks or similar coffee shop. After dinner the other night, my wife and I went through the drive-thru at a coffee shop. Two coffees were $8 and we gave the girl a tip on top of it. I guess anytime you can get two cups of coffee for $8 you should show your gratitude.



My Krupps coffee maker was getting long in the tooth so one day browsing at a Bed Bath and Beyond I spotted a Cuisinart coffee maker system. This machine did it all. It grinds the beans, spits the grounds into the basket and drips the water all in one process. Fresh ground and dripped coffee. It cost me $100 but it was worth it. When you push the button to start the coffee making process the Cuisinart makes a loud noise that sounds like a shop vac. I consider that an alarm clock feature.



So those are some random thoughts about coffee. I could write more, but I need to go pour myself another cup. Enjoy your morning coffee.



Until the next time,

John Strain

My Existential Angst

The older I get the more opportunities I have to contemplate my mortality. I am going to die someday. Many of you may already be saying, “oh, I don’t even want to think about it.” The “it” being the fact that you too are going to die one day. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, but I understand a lot of them. One rule is that we die. The “existential angst” is the process you go through to get to “OK”.



One cannot really live until they accept their death. If on television tonight there were a news flash stating that ice water would vanish from the earth in two days, wouldn’t you run to the ice maker and prepare a tall glass of ice water? It is the same principle with accepting your own vanishing. If you accept it you will squeeze the life out of what time you have.



A while back I wrote a poem about this process in me. I called it Remembrance. It goes like this:

Remembrance

I am a man One of billions now living

One of billions of billions before me

Insignificant by number

By achievement

By wealth

By status



Who will remember me when I am gone?

What I looked like?

What I said?

What I did?



Will they say I made a difference?

That their lives were better because of me?

Will they miss me?



Still I know that the passing time will sweep away all remembrance of me

I will lie in a field beneath a stone one of hundreds

And the things I did and said

The experiences I had will be lost

And I will be forgotten



How precious then is this moment we share

Let us not spend it in anger or fear or worry

For even this will be forgotten



Instead open your heart and mind to love

Savor this gift we call life

Drink it in through every pore with every sense you have



When I am gone and as long as I am remembered

May they remember this about me

That I was here

I was happy

I tried to love and laugh

And I was thankful for my life

--------------------------------------



Until the next time,

John Strain