"She's In a Better Place"...Really?

Tough post to write.  The bride and I recently spent some time with friends, a couple who had lost an adult daughter in an auto accident.

Unlike some such social get-togethers, they were very free and open in discussing their daughter: her life and death, the grief process, the healing, the hurt...in short, anything and everything you wanted to know but were afraid to ask for fear of offending or creating an awkward situation.  It was a sad (at times) but also comfortable evening.

Now this was a "typical" church family, regular attendees but not overtly zealous or the like.  The mom mentioned that the one comment she frequently got--from well-meaning church friends--was "She's in a better place."

Our friends related how they grew to loathe that comment, just wanting to shake the commenter (or worse) and scream "Really?  Danielle is better off dead in a car crash than with her family?"

I get it--religious people think comments like that one are helpful.  But to a parent who has lost the light of their lives, it's insensitive at best.

I cannot fathom what it is to actually lose a child, but we came close when a loved one went off for awhile to a very dark, life-threatening place.  The bride and I were prepared (or as prepared as one can get) to receive that dreaded phone call in the middle of the night.  In sharing that sentiment with the dear friends of a support group that helped keep us sane during that time, we found that many of the other parents, like us, had already accepted the practical necessity of thinking about funeral planning, what type of service, what clothes we'd pick out, etc.

It was a grim, dark time...from which we have had the happiest of outcomes.  Unlike our friends, who have somehow managed to keep on going without their daughter.  They are OK now, but changed forever.

Pale Blue Dot...and Ultrarunning

Th actual "pale blue dot" is tiny: look in the long streak on the right, just below the centerline:

 

 [image credit Wikipedia]

I'm a sucker for Dr. Carl Sagan, and agree with Phil Plait, the motive force behind the wonderful blog, Bad Astronomy, that Sagan's words are inspirational and powerful:

It is a wonderful thing that words written many years ago can inspire people today. When Carl Sagan wrote his essay “Reflections on a Mote of Dust” (commonly called “Pale Blue Dot”), he must have known how special it was. His words were inspired by a picture taken from a spacecraft 6 billion kilometers away, a probe commanded to turn around and look at our solar system from this great distance. It was so terribly remote at the time that our entire planet appears as a simple pale blue dot, a single pixel of color in a vast patch of darkness.

His essay is, in my opinion, one of the finest examples of writing in the English language.
 

So let's look to Sagan's words themselves:

We succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look at it, you see a dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.

The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.

Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity -- in all this vastness -- there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. It's been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.
 

The link to Ultrarunning, of course, is that all of our efforts and miles and pain and joy really don't amount to much on the cosmic stage. That's a humbling thought.

But on the other hand, when we do our Ultra thing, when we kindly and compassionately embrace a spirit of mutual effort on the trails to further our understanding of ourselves, we really are honoring the words of Dr. Sagan:

"To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."

 

Somewhere, the Gods Clapped Their Hands

[image credit here]

The title comes from a Dr. George Sheehan book.  For those of us who came of age in the running boom of the 1970s, Sheehan was a running philosopher who could write about our passion, and make us think about it.  He was a must-read, and runners today could learn a lot from him.

Anyway, I recall the title quote above or something like it from one of his books, and thought it applied here.

See, one of the grandbabies, the 9-year-old, whose nickname for purposes of this blog is Doody Bug, was off school today due to the freezing rain that landed through our early morning hours.  So I, being retired, am the go-to guy for emergency/unexpected child care requirements.  Since mom and dad had to work, I got to watch Doody Bug (which is always great, and NEVER a hassle).

Doody Bug came through the door with a DVD video that I have here right in front of me as I type this post.  It's The Nutcracker ballet, featuring Mikail Barishnikov and Gelsey Kirkland, circa 1977.

It is amazingly beautiful, and is a story that kids can follow.  Barishnikov does phenomenal leaps in which he hangs in the air, seemingly forever.  And Kirkland is ethereal as Clara, the girl who gets the magical nutcracker doll.

Doody Bug asked that we play it and watch it together.  So we settled into the sofa, snuggled together, she with her juice and me with my coffee, and loved it.  Just plain LOVED IT.

Somewhere, the Gods clapped their hands.

 

Modify Your Shoes for Ice

Here's a recycled post that I put up about 2 years ago, on modifying one's shoes for traction in icy conditions.  Here in south-central PA, today is supposed to bring some nasty freezing rain, plus I had an inquiry about this a couple weeks back, so it's a timely walk down memory lane.

Enjoy!

===================

Freezing Rain...and Ultrarunning

After several days of political or otherwise non-ultra posts, let's get back to basics, shall we? As in running and shoes and weather (all photos by Gary).

Well, the post title is kinda a misnomer. It's not Ultrarunning, strictly--this post is more about just plain running. Because when we have freezing rain as we did on Tuesday and is happening again today, I cannot imagine even thinking about any back country trail running.

But if you are braver than me and want to tackle icy trails, I do understand it.

So...as has been discussed many times on the UltraList, some years back I went ahead and created some semi-slip proof running shoes by screwing in a number of 1/2" hex head screws. The screws go around the perimeter of the bottom of the shoe. It's best to use a nut driver or socket, because a screwdriver would slip out of the screw head pretty easily as you try to torque the screw down.

For me, both the heel screws and the forefoot screws are equally important: the heel because I am a heel striker and need a solid grip as my foot comes down. And the forefoot, because that's how I push off for the next stride.

Tuesday morning I was out the door at 5:30 AM as I needed to be back to begin teleworking at 6:30. I knew there had been some freezing rain overnight, so I busted out my old Adidas Trail Response shoes that I only keep for ice running. In running my Harshman Road 5 mile loop, I was quite surefooted and really never had any instances of needing to catch myself.

I bet the drivers of the 5 cars that passed me thought I was nuts. But I was in heaven, tooling along with my arms out like an airplane, enjoying myself like an ebullient drunk (I did not do the arm thingy when seen).

I know that all runners have a stash of shoes that are not quite wrecked or worn enough to toss, but for that very reason are never worn anymore either. Go ahead and get pair ready for ice.

When I say "for ice" I am being literal. I should point out that these studded shoes really don't help appreciably on snow. I find that a pair of trail shoes with an aggressive tread is much better for snow running.

And then when you get home, you take off your wet duds, hang them by the woodstove, pet the cats, and life is mighty good.

Cats in Art: Reopening of the Chat Noir Cabaret (Steinlen)

From my continuing weekly Sunday series of cats in art. I am using some ideas from the coffee table book, The Cat in Art, by Stefano Zuffi.

I am currently featuring 4 installments of the art of Theophile Alexandre Steinlen--this is 2 of 4:

Image credit WikiGallery.  Reopening of the Chat Noir Cabaret, 1896, T. A. Steinlen, 1896, oil on canvas.

The poster cat looks a tad bit hyper--either hopped up on catnip, or out of sorts due to all the humans attending the reopening of the cabaret. 

Or, merely mugging for the artist and acting the part of being famous enough to have a cabaret named after you.

 

Emily Dickinson....and Ultrarunning

That's Emily Dickinson, mysterious and reclusive poet in the middle 1800s, who, I am convinced, had the soul of an Ultrarunner and may have become one of us had she lived now.

Why do I say that?  Because she understood all the right things:

“I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.” 

“Dying is a wild night and a new road.” 

“Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little demon.” 

“I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious” 

“The only Commandment I ever obeyed — 'Consider the Lilies.'” 

“Forgive me if I never visit. I am from the fields, you know, and while quite at home with the dandelions, make a sorry figure in a drawing room.” 

 “I believe in possibility.” 

 

From goodreads, here.  The first quote is my favorite of the bunch, far and away.

 

 

Where I Run: Stone Bridge

One of my road routes from the house is along the appropriately named Stone Bridge Road--so named for the 2-arched limestone bridge that there crosses the East Branch of the Conococheague Creek:

View from the downstream side

View from the upstream side

These images show that there is a modern, two-lane concrete bridge superstructure superimposed upon the underlying original 1-lane, 2-arch limestone bridge. 

Most people know little of the underpinnings of society--what makes things work--and I suspect this bridge falls into the same category.  I doubt whether even half the people who use it every day even know that they are driving on an antique (but fully functional) structure.

This is what the circa-1850 bridge would have looked like originally.  This photo is of the nearby Social Island Road bridge, from a way cool site called Bridgehunter:

 

Armor-Piercing Bullets...and Ultrarunning

Via Dependable Renegade and The Raw Story, we find the following opinion from a man who aspired and still aspires to be your President:

World Net Daily columnist and former Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum on Sunday insisted that Americans were entitled to armor-piercing bullets because they are “a right in our country.”

The Pennsylvania Republican told an ABC News panel that conservatives “should stick to our guns” and oppose President Barack Obama’s efforts to curb gun violence in the wake of the slaughter of 20 children in Newtown, Connecticut.

“Armor-piercing bullets, why do you need that?” Granholm [the host] interrupted.

“Why do you need to protect Hollywood?” Santorum shot back.

“You’re deflecting,” Granholm observed. “Deer don’t wear armor. Why do you need an armor-piercing bullet?”

“But criminals could,” Santorum quipped.

“And police officers certainly do,” Granholm noted.

“Having the ability to defend yourself is something that is a right in our country,” Santorum asserted.

I understand "sporting weapons" for hunting.  I  grew up in a hunting culture at home (it didn't stick with me).  But I just don't understand the rest of the gun fetish.

And the connection to Ultrarunning?  Many hunters use the same trails we do for our respective endeavors; whenever I can, I give them the widest berth possible.  Chances are, they're a law-abiding hunter...after all, I've never heard of an Ultrarunner getting whacked in the backcountry by a hunter.

But increasingly, especially the last few weeks since the Newtown massacre, I am realizing there is a strong undercurrent of gun crazy--like that above by Santorum--that makes me uneasy.