In Plato’s Apology, Socrates briefly draws a connection between the craft of teaching and that of horse training. Granted this is also in the middle of specious assault against Socrates for so-called corruption, but this section of Plato’s dialogue, to me, represents the metaphor of my life as a runner.
Running, for me, is not particular a glorious affair. I don’t run for a personal best w/r/t time, I don’t run for fame, I don’t even run for stamina (although, to be fair, I really do run for stamina) so much as I run for the same reasons that Lester Burnham does in American Beauty. That being said, there is nothing really rational in my approach to running. I don’t do it for the health factor, in fact, I hate running, I abhor exercise and if I could just have maintained my college shape without having to work for it as I grow older, I would do so.
The stench of my sweat, the chafing of my clothing (even if it is the expensive wick-away-sweat clothing from Nike) against my skin, the blisters on my feet, the minor aches and pains, and between miles seven and eight where I just wish God would strike me down for heresy, yes, all that glorious exercise I would do away with if the technology promised during the 3:30 a.m. infomercial was, in fact, real. But it is not, so, for selfish and ridiculous reasons of vanity I push myself at 5:30 a.m. to go running for a minimum of four miles just hoping that a car will see me and opt not to hit me. Thus, circling back to Plato’s Apology my desire to run is, for me, anti-rational to a lot of self--interests.
But then, during my early morning, crisp air run I start a stream-of-consciousness that would draw the envy of Joyce. My breathing falls into place, the classical music run playlist that I created on Spotify hits the right crescendo as I crest a hill and it all just irrationally clicks for me. I am alive, I am not training horses (okay, maybe just a little bit) I am an artist, sculpting both my physical and mental self. Running is not really about vanity (okay, just a little bit) as much as it is about time to contemplate further my Weltanschauung.
During runs I find that I am okay with writing off the “pop culture” music (among other facets of pop culture) that I find so dissonant and distasteful (I can stomach it in small doses, but Stravinsky will always be my dissonant master).
I realize that I would rather it there for those who can find meaning and solace in this music, but for me, the Bach Brandenburg Concertos or Wagner’s Ring will always reign supreme (not to mention a certain deaf composer). I don’t feel the need to be snobbish about it (oh but I used to), I just also don’t feel the need to feel that I have to lower myself in order to blend in with my peers, or my daughter’s friends (although my six year old is a Wagnerian – Rheinmaidens grabbed her in Das Rheingold and wouldn’t let go). It’s okay for people to like Game of Thrones without reading the books, it doesn’t cheapen the experience, people of the world don’t have to agree with me that the age of Shakespeare was the age of Elizabeth, the age of Pericles was the age of Sophocles, and the age of de Vinci was the age of de Medici – that is, that art is of vital importance to a culture in order to balance out said culture’s imperialistic tendincies.* I will argue this and have done so with people, but at the end of the day, my running in the morning reminds me (usually around mile seven) that it is okay that others exist not solely to agree with me. Discourse and dialogue are good things.
On the downhill conclusion of my run I finalize, always towards the end of anything, an ever expanding set of life goals, which are and in no particular order:
• Invest 10,000 hours in study of chess and become a Grandmaster;
• Invest in my future by studying the LSAT, getting into law school, and committing a life to the pursuit of civil justice for victims of injury;
• Learning the violin;
• Spend a month or two in Germany;
• Learn French;
• After law school and once I am financially stable, obtain a PhD in Philosophy (that one is just for me);
• Run the Athens marathon.
I’m not sure if I will do all of these things, but the possibilities that float through my head while I’m running leave me with a feeling that there is nothing holding me back save myself. Yes, I’m usually this campy and that is when I end on a good note, I may have just lost a toenail but damn it, I certainly can compose a Haiku while strumming my violin reciting a French poem while putting that anonymous player in checkmate.
My world gets positively brighter when I run and for no other reason, that is why I do it.
*All my pop culture bitching aside, Futurama remains one of the greatest satires of the American Empire that has been created. The whole idea of mocking the present from the comforts of the future reminds me of the Ancient Greek plays where Athens was criticized from the comforts of the play being set in Thebes, Corinth, or Sparta.
Running, for me, is not particular a glorious affair. I don’t run for a personal best w/r/t time, I don’t run for fame, I don’t even run for stamina (although, to be fair, I really do run for stamina) so much as I run for the same reasons that Lester Burnham does in American Beauty. That being said, there is nothing really rational in my approach to running. I don’t do it for the health factor, in fact, I hate running, I abhor exercise and if I could just have maintained my college shape without having to work for it as I grow older, I would do so.
The stench of my sweat, the chafing of my clothing (even if it is the expensive wick-away-sweat clothing from Nike) against my skin, the blisters on my feet, the minor aches and pains, and between miles seven and eight where I just wish God would strike me down for heresy, yes, all that glorious exercise I would do away with if the technology promised during the 3:30 a.m. infomercial was, in fact, real. But it is not, so, for selfish and ridiculous reasons of vanity I push myself at 5:30 a.m. to go running for a minimum of four miles just hoping that a car will see me and opt not to hit me. Thus, circling back to Plato’s Apology my desire to run is, for me, anti-rational to a lot of self--interests.
But then, during my early morning, crisp air run I start a stream-of-consciousness that would draw the envy of Joyce. My breathing falls into place, the classical music run playlist that I created on Spotify hits the right crescendo as I crest a hill and it all just irrationally clicks for me. I am alive, I am not training horses (okay, maybe just a little bit) I am an artist, sculpting both my physical and mental self. Running is not really about vanity (okay, just a little bit) as much as it is about time to contemplate further my Weltanschauung.
During runs I find that I am okay with writing off the “pop culture” music (among other facets of pop culture) that I find so dissonant and distasteful (I can stomach it in small doses, but Stravinsky will always be my dissonant master).
I realize that I would rather it there for those who can find meaning and solace in this music, but for me, the Bach Brandenburg Concertos or Wagner’s Ring will always reign supreme (not to mention a certain deaf composer). I don’t feel the need to be snobbish about it (oh but I used to), I just also don’t feel the need to feel that I have to lower myself in order to blend in with my peers, or my daughter’s friends (although my six year old is a Wagnerian – Rheinmaidens grabbed her in Das Rheingold and wouldn’t let go). It’s okay for people to like Game of Thrones without reading the books, it doesn’t cheapen the experience, people of the world don’t have to agree with me that the age of Shakespeare was the age of Elizabeth, the age of Pericles was the age of Sophocles, and the age of de Vinci was the age of de Medici – that is, that art is of vital importance to a culture in order to balance out said culture’s imperialistic tendincies.* I will argue this and have done so with people, but at the end of the day, my running in the morning reminds me (usually around mile seven) that it is okay that others exist not solely to agree with me. Discourse and dialogue are good things.
On the downhill conclusion of my run I finalize, always towards the end of anything, an ever expanding set of life goals, which are and in no particular order:
• Invest 10,000 hours in study of chess and become a Grandmaster;
• Invest in my future by studying the LSAT, getting into law school, and committing a life to the pursuit of civil justice for victims of injury;
• Learning the violin;
• Spend a month or two in Germany;
• Learn French;
• After law school and once I am financially stable, obtain a PhD in Philosophy (that one is just for me);
• Run the Athens marathon.
I’m not sure if I will do all of these things, but the possibilities that float through my head while I’m running leave me with a feeling that there is nothing holding me back save myself. Yes, I’m usually this campy and that is when I end on a good note, I may have just lost a toenail but damn it, I certainly can compose a Haiku while strumming my violin reciting a French poem while putting that anonymous player in checkmate.
My world gets positively brighter when I run and for no other reason, that is why I do it.
*All my pop culture bitching aside, Futurama remains one of the greatest satires of the American Empire that has been created. The whole idea of mocking the present from the comforts of the future reminds me of the Ancient Greek plays where Athens was criticized from the comforts of the play being set in Thebes, Corinth, or Sparta.
