Many Trail Monsters are off to StoneCat this weekend. Best of luck to everyone. Run with heart, be safe, kick ass, and write lengthy reports!
Matt, Sarah and I blew off rehearsal and played outside as the earth turned from the sun. It was too Autumn to go inside. Our fingers stiffened in the chilly air and Sarah's nose turned pinker than usual, but everyone insisted. We had to play slower and slower tunes as our hands solidified.
We did get some work done, including finally arranging the Trajkisko Horo! Finally it has an arc and has begun to communicate its story. Matt also learned the next section of Varnensko Horo, much to my delight. We've been playing the first 1/2 of that tune for two+ years. But the second makes the first even cooler.
The material we work with and adore is often so technical that we just snowplow through it for months, barely able to hang on. Matt wrestles the bear. I navigate, provide some Earth. It can be months, a year even, before we can start to have something malleable, something on which we can safely take risks. Something we can craft into a palatable piece that allures the western ear while paying homage to the east in its authenticity.
A breakdancer showed up and pulled some impressive acrobatics. He also filmed us for a while. Then some other guy came over and asked if I was playing a harp. We told him it's a bass.
We made $6 busking. Someday I want to put a lawyer in a park and tell her to practice some law there, and see what kinds of dough people through in her briefcase. Just curious. What is value?
I changed in the Cove parking lot and traversed it to eventually find Squirrel beneath a darkened street light. (Sinister!) In spite of the dark, there was great gaggles of runners, decked out in fancy lights and neon yellow reflective gear. We steered somewhat clear.
I tried to explain Scout's scary tumbling episode from earlier. Maybe running falls should have acronyms, like skaters and their FOOSH. Scout's was like a CNR, the old crunch-n-rumple. That's not very catchy though. Hmm. I proposed to continue work on this through the winter (the season, unlike Autumn, that should really be called Fall).
We did two conversationally active loops. Squirrel has such a calm/energetic/thoughtful demeanor, fitting really well into my "surround yourself with good people" philosophy. Gratitude. Origami crane Seagulls settled in the shallows by the rank muck of low tide.
Afterwards I realized that I am not sure I've ever run seven miles this fast. Not that it felt fast -- it merely felt smooth. Back Cove is funny like that.
Leg good. No pain.
Almost all the other runners were gone by the time we finished. They were totally stroking our two-loop-based superiority complex. Squirrel pointed out the fabulous moon. Goldenish yellowy orb with a path on the water, welcoming, leading right up to its face.
~Pancake flat. Back Cove. 6:15pm ish. Night.
~Hokas, Smartwool, pants, long sleeves, headlamp.