Long day yesterday. Track work, doctors, coaches, photo shoot. I got it all done but found myself thinking that beauty in the world has a moral imperative. Or does it? I’m not even sure I know what that means except that I think that as a writer and a shooter I often feel like I can’t leave things undone, words unwritten, shots untaken, no matter that the end product is not “beautiful” only that the quest is joined and the effort made. When did this happen to me? Wasn’t always like this, I can you that…Ry(Cooder) and Taj (Mahal)are sayin’ let the good times roll-Alright!

Photo Credit

Photo Is © Michael Lebowitz

A Lion had come to the end of his days and lay sick unto death at the mouth of his cave, gasping for breath. The animals, his subjects, came round him and drew nearer as he grew more and more helpless. When they saw him on the point of death they thought to themselves: “Now is the time to pay off old grudges.” So the Boar came up and drove at him with his tusks; then a Bull gored him with his horns; still the Lion lay helpless before them: so the Ass, feeling quite safe from danger, came up, and turning his tail to the Lion kicked up his heels into his face. “This is a double death,” growled the Lion.  ~Joseph Jacobs translation according to wikipedia

6:00 Am at the foot of Martin, the Sunday run, the usual suspects…everyone felt good, well, everyone but me. I had my best week of pre training-6 runs, 3 core workouts; the downside is that by this morning I am tired and not really rarin’ to go. From jump I let them go and stay in my pace. I have lots to think about, mostly I have the book proposal due at the end of the week. Fog in rainbowed droplets drifts past the headlamp, headlamps bob in the forest ahead. Silence grows, the chatter gets further away. For awhile there is only me, my light, my breath in clouds rising into the cold morning air. Thoughts of pride intrude, of being left behind, of having become the old man in the bunch, once the fierce leader of many a posse, now an old lion running steady but far behind the young ones. And yet, with a glimmer of pride and hope, still in the hunt. No wonder, I think, the polar bears put the old ones on the ice, or is that “polar” legend, and old lions become jackal bait. For now though what’s left is to keep truckin’, to slow down and get it right, to suit up and show up and rely on my experience, my faith and my community. Old lions ain’t dead, they just old and it takes a little longer but what they know is that sometimes longer is better. And that thought makes me smile although to see it some might call it a wry and a little bit dirty for a morning smile. If longer is all you have, then it is the product of what has come before. Slowing down and smelling the roses is not always a choice, sometimes it is an unexpected gift. The herd of deer and I watched each other for a few minutes and then we both went on our way. Fox Hollow Road ran empty this morning, no one but me, the creek was low, the coffee afterwards was fine. Another day on the trail, another few miles, Sunday morning came in on the heels of the disappearing herd and the rising sun. Grace is where you find it.

Photo Credit

©Rachel Glickman

Woke up this morning, more like came to, long night in the jungles of my memories…How did Dylan know what he knew when he was 21 or 22? “I ain’t sayin you treated me unkind…you sorta wasted my precious time, don’t ya think twice, it’s all right” My precious time…wow and I ain’t no 22 year old neither…gonna run after a meeting, gonna write the day away, gonna remember that some things never change and some things do and with Mr. Dylan once again, it ain’t dark yet, but it’s gettin there. I told her that the string was near to broken. She asked me what that meant. Before my heart broke in too many pieces for me to speak i said goodbye and good luck. Sometimes—Oh hell, sometimes it just be that way and there isn’t a damn thing left to do but gather up the broken strings, tie ’em in a bundle, roll your collar up, slam your hands deep into your jeans and face into the wind for as long as it takes to remember that what was…was and that if it was a true thing – and I know this one to be just that – it will last forever ‘Cause these things abide as will I when it is time to light out again and look all around. Peace is where you find it, I’m gonna starting lookin’ in to my heart and let the rest take care of itself.

Photo Credits

All Images By Michael Lebowitz – All Rights Reserved

‎”I hear America singing…” Walt Whitman. Equally, ” I hear you singin’ in the wires…” Jimmy Webb.
I love the color of the fog this morning, the temperature of the light transforms morning in the valley into a sacred moment, a pause at the end of something. Up here in the land of ancient trees and dreams to last a lifetime we celebrate winter where we find it, in bare branches and surprising blue skies, in pearling fog and quiet, sunlit, wet, electric, mornings after the heavy rains and howling winds.Inside it all, a belief in the good times to come. Got some miles this morning, came home to a sharp right in the wire haiku outside the house. All the best of everything to all of you for 2012-it is time, past time, to let the good times roll.