I do not enjoy running. Unless it’s making a run to get more ice, a beer run, running to pick up the pizza (you get the idea), running, for me, is not fun. I’m sure growing up with asthma has something to do with my feelings toward running, but I won’t get into the psychology of my youth…that could get scary.
However, as I approach the halfway point between 30 and 40 (isn’t 40 the new 30?), I’ve made it a point to regularly get the heart pumping by running a couple miles each night. It sucks.
And boy how times have changed. There was a time when the music selection was a bit more intense during activities such as snowboarding or mountain biking, but last night I found myself working out and enjoying The Boat Drunks, Ziggy Marley, Counting Crows and Jerry Jeff Walker (there was some Beastie Boys in there as well).
But at least I have Snoloha Performance T’s to wear. I figure that when I do get hit by a car, the last thing the driver will see is the “Somewhere between the islands and the arctic” printed boldly on the back. You should buy one. You don’t have to be a runner to need performance. If you have to walk more than a few blocks or bike more than 10 minutes to get to the beach…that’s performance. If it’s 80 & humid and you’re in charge of the grill…that’s performance. If you need to wash the car or mow the lawn…that’s performance.
As I was running along the bay hoping not to get hit by a car, one of my favorites came on…”The Cape” by Jerry Jeff Walker. That song always reminds me that it’s okay to get older, but it’s important to remain youthful and to keep dreaming.
â€œWell heâ€™s eight years old heâ€™s got a flour sack cape tied all around his neck
Heâ€™s climbing up on top the garage figurinâ€™ what the heck
He screws his courage up so darn tight, that the whole thing come unwound
He got a runninâ€™ start and bless his heart, he headed for the ground
â€˜Cause heâ€™s one of those who knows his life
Is just a leap of faith
Gottaâ€™ spread your arms and hold your breath
And always trust your cape
Well heâ€™s all grown up, heâ€™s got a flour sack cape, tied all around his dream
Heâ€™s full of piss and vinegar, ah, heâ€™s bustinâ€™ at the seams
He licks his finger and checks the wind, itâ€™s gonna be do or die
He wasnâ€™t scared of nothinâ€™, boys, he was pretty sure he could fly
Now heâ€™s old and grey with a flour sack cape, tied all around his head
And heâ€™s still jumpinâ€™ off the garage and will be til heâ€™s dead
All these years the people said the fool was actinâ€™ like a kid
And said he didnâ€™t know he couldnâ€™t fly, well of course he didâ€
See what I mean? “Growing older but not up” as Buffett would say.
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