Doug Bruns

Posts Tagged ‘Running’

6.24.2018

In Camping, Nature, Wisdom on June 24, 2018 at 9:26 am
The Morning Run_edited

Our morning run starts and ends at the lake. Lucy takes a water break.

I can run again, if you call it that, since the hips were changed out a few years ago. It is a wonderous thing, replacing a body part, as if the truck broke down then got a new gasket. It helps to stay off pavement so I don’t run in the city. But here in Colorado, it’s a different story. The trail to the ridge behind us is dusty earth, not pavement, and that helps, as it seems a tad softer. Earth can be like that, forgiving, if you let it. As a younger man I ran a lot, which is probably why the system–my body–broke down as it did. I had something to prove: faster, faster, farther farther! Now, as I awkwardly transition into old age (YIKES!), it is the simple promise of movement that gets me out the doors. I have nothing to prove. Mary Oliver has a lovely line: “As I grew older the things I cared / about grew fewer, but were more / important.” That sums up much that is true about this stage of life.

At nine thousand feet elevation it takes me a while to get up to the top. I take it slow, and try to maintain an easy pace. I’m not kidding anyone and have no compunction about stopping if I need to. When I stop to catch my breath I try to turn my focus to the landscape, the lake and the surrounding mountains. Peak One and a few other peaks are still holding snow, though a fishing guide told me the snow pack melted too early and too fast this year. The earth can be like that also, not soft, but a reflection of our heart, too often rapacious and unforgiving. Nature is not something out there. It is us and we are it. This seems especially obvious to me this summer.
We’re into month two of life in the mountains and have more than three to go. I’ve not spent so much time out of doors since my summer camp days. We’re living in an Airstream trailer and hosting a campground in the White River National Forest. My morning runs underscore the personal transition that is occurring: that nature is not a thing “out there” so much as it is a place within, as well as without. It is easy to forget that we are born of nature when our lives are spent so often removed from it. With repetition–from the house to the car to the cubicle to the mall to the store and back to the house, repeat–with repetition, we forget the ancient connection to the larger world; we accept the notion that we are separate–separate from the natural world, and separate from one another. There is great danger in that, the belief of “otherness.”  We are seeing a good bit of this currently: people who are “not us,” a natural world for served up for subjugation, the want of civility. It would be best if everyone moved out of doors, took a run to the top of a mountain, and stopping to catch their breath, looked out over a morning valley. Everything seems fitting and orderly when this happens.

1.26.2017

In Happiness, Philosophy on January 26, 2017 at 7:13 pm

Cardiff, Ca

I was walking the beach this morning when I heard a woman talking behind me. Her voice grew increasingly loud and strained.  I turned and saw a runner. She was having a conversation on her phone. A few minutes later another runner passed me. I could hear music leaking from his ear buds. I used to run. I was a runner. I was not a runner on a phone. I was not a runner listening to music. I ran with all the focus and concentration I could muster. Running was the training of the body, concentration the training of the mind. Our minds are difficult things, flitting here and there.  A monkey swinging from branch to branch. Getting it under some fashion of control, bringing focus to our mind, is no small matter. If you are going to run. Run. If you are going to hold a conversation respect the other person and give them your full attention. It appears that everyone is interested in mindfulness these days. You don’t have to be sitting on a cushion to practice it. Concentrate. Focus. Please, we need our wits about us. The world is scrambled enough. Be a force of concentration.

* * *

Carole and I were having lunch at a nice restaurant yesterday. We sat at the bar. Behind us a man called for his waitress. He complained that there was a lemon in his water. He did not ask for a lemon in his water. He wanted it removed from the table immediately. It was a moment when an elder of a prior generation would have turned and said, “Shut up and drink it, you entitled bastard. There are children dying of thirst in Africa.” I listened, feeling as if I was in an alternate universe. “Oh my god,” the waitress said. She was dressed in black, head to toe. “I’m so sorry. And, like, I totally brag about our water too.” Alternate universe indeed.

* * *

“A man is as miserable as he thinks he is.” That is Seneca, the Stoic. He was an adviser to Nero. Eventually Nero went nuts on him, as despots do. Nero ordered Seneca to kill himself. He did, but not before botching the effort multiple times. The ancient philosophy of Stoicism is having a moment. There have been articles on Stoicism recently in the The New York Times (“How to be a Stoic“), the Guardian (“How Would the Stoics Cope Today?“), and The New Yorker (also titled, “How to be a Stoic“). Several new books about it are due. A sign of the times perhaps? Back to Seneca. If  one is as miserable as he or she thinks, does it not conversely follow that one is as happy as he or she thinks they are? If you’ve spent any time here at “…the house…” you know the theme: How best to live? The better turn of thought, however, is not how to live, but how to think. Figure that out and everything else follows. Ancient philosophers were judged not only on the philosophy they proclaimed, but also the life they lived. The life of the mind, measured as a function of existence. It is a refreshing thought in these troubling days, the evidence of disciplined intelligence as manifested in one’s life. Sadly, it seems a curiously unique notion.