I went to the gym today as it is entirely too cold to run outside without coughing up my guts. I have too much energy for one person and need to be running in a circle on the track, whether it is exciting or not (it is not), merely to satisfy my muscles' desire for burning and breaking; the same excitement is felt in pushing and pulling on weights, the exhaustion washing over me, face red, breathless.
The guy flinging the huge, threaded ropes side to side, then up and down, and wiggling them in all number of contorted directions was sweating his face off when I walked up to him. He said he’s been working his weight down for a while, he is no stranger to the core exercises. I find people at the gym inspiring, for the most part.
I have booked 2 nights at Yosemite National Park later next year. I will have to try for May in 2020; I was not in time to beat everyone else there in 2019. I emailed a hiking company to reserve a couple of spots for us to do a guided hike, something a little less reckless leaving time for exploration on another day. My wife hiked Glacier Point on a whim. She requested we stay at a lodge, and let me tell you, the lodge is freaking beautiful, set right in the valley floor. The hike we are going to do meanders along for 8.5 miles. I have picked a late-year timeframe, and I’m not sure if packing snow gear will be in order. Get out there, see things bigger than people, smell the forest, see something you cannot put into words and do not get eaten by a mountain lion or bear. Lacks assurances, is scared, is proceeding.
A Southwest jet skidded off the runway at the Bob Hope International Airport this week. I miss all the fun. Those poor people are awash in mud, all the infrastructure washed hither and yon.
I wanted to drag out this golden poem from a long time ago. Something fortuitous; I think I might have been talking about having a child before he was a twinkle. The way I had the child was not the best way, hindsight being what it is. I wanted 3 children. I never had those dreams about wedding dresses, but along about age 25, I started having maternal urges, and they were urges for 3. I'm grateful for one. Since I ended up doing things this way, it has caused a lot of difficulty for my wife, because it is not easy to be the step-parent. It is not something most people would pick to do. It is a lot of missed moments, like the kid's entire cute and cuddly stage, the bonding stage. There are a lot of articles about blended families. None of them say being the step-parent is a dream come true, lottery-style (though I do not buy the concept of any sudden financial windfall as a dream come true). Nope. So, when I read this poem, now that 15 years have passed, I think it holds its own truth, and may always. Life is difficult most of the time. At times, heaping it onto our selves, we make it more difficult.
Sometimes, poetry is like a big, annoying puzzle, where you can draw your own conclusions. I don't know what I meant when I wrote this when I was 30. But, I like the way it ends: on tip-toes, I am higher than power on wire. Only because it is clever.
In the evening, I am pointed skyward, ever-waiting for the right time to blast into glory.
In the daytime, I am quiet, as I cannot leave or stay.
On the heels of something more, I am rockets ready, alone and steady,
With and without.
Forty-five is where I’ll be in fifteen years
And who will be from parts of me,
Well, I may never know.
On the heels of something more, I am not outspoken,
I am mending from broken,
Watching and biding a time that is sliding,
In a place where I cannot leave or stay.
On tip-toes, I am higher than power on wire.