I’m busy prepping for the Zooma Cape Cod at the end of September with my lovely friend Caitlin, her wonderful mother, Stephanie, and Cait’s close friend, Maria. It’s approaching way too fast, and I’m still way too slow (at least from where I would like to be). But I don’t run for competition. I don’t run for weight control – although I guess that’s a happy side effect of all the miles in and calories burned.
I run for a simple reason – because it clears my head and provides me with moments of beauty that are translucently perfect when seen through the vail of several hours of endurance, and silence.
It’s basically a form of meditation and transcendentalism, rolled into one.
It’s where I go when the world is too much and I just need to appreciate stillness.
I realized this, quite fully, at Nolcha last night, when I happened to meet a videographer on the deck at Chelsea Piers. She told me about a project she is working on – a documentary of NYC seen through moments of everyday experience. And I told her about Virginia Woolfe’s “moments of being,” those fleeting seconds of perfect clarity and beauty which artists try so hard to capture, which burn like a “match burning in a crocus” – illuminated for a split second from within and then gone forever.
When I run, it’s to savor those beautiful moments. And though these pictures don’t do the actual experience much justice, please enjoy this visual journey from Elizabeth Park to the Riverfront in Hartford, which I completed yesterday.
The Tobacco Shop Lounge, where I refilled my water bottle and said hi to the fellas
Statehouse Square: deserted on a Sunday
The Phoenix Building
East of the river
A metallic horse on the riverfront: part of the Lincoln Sculpture series
Vignette detail deep in the woods on the Riverfront
On the bridge, returning to the city (not pictured: a mother chasing her toddler with her camera)
A friendly face at the Asylum Hill Congregational Church
At the sign of the rose, returning to Elizabeth Park