LIONS AND RUNNING ON EMPTY

Yesterday was the fifth official run. We took a different route. We jogged into Bivins. The route was a perfect three miles. To complete it successfully would be to achieve goal. While only once, it would still be achieved.

I found that Ice Cube is quite decent jogging music. I sample from all of his catalog from Amerikkka's Most Wanted to Lethal Injection. I think "When Will They Shoot?" easily gave me an additional quarter mile the other day when my body was starting to shut down on me. So, with Kool Aid and Ice Cube in tow, we took off into the 90-degree cool that blanketed the Yellow. I had a pretty good pace early, but as we turned the corner and hit the half-mile mark (yeah, half mile), I started to cramp up just below my belly. You know, those cramps that you used to get in grade school when playing kickball. Yeah, awesome stuff. I kept running hoping to deep-breathe through it. It's all I could do.

Then I lost my Ice Cube as my iPod lost it's charge. Logged into the journal: "Charge the iPod before running." So now I'm jogging to the harmonic sounds of a panting 32 year-old and the rhythm of feet painfully smacking on asphalt.

When we approached Georgia and the mile-mark, my calves started to flare up on me. I mean, it was a pain that was undescribable. It felt like someone was jamming an ice pick directly into each of my calves. Kools continued with very little sign of weakening, but meanwhile, I was getting what could only be described as "a painful crash course in running for a non-runner." Never yet had I felt so inadequate for this journey. I felt like I was at the starting point again. While approaching the two-mile mark, I simply stopped running. While I walked, my calves turned to a fiery inferno on both legs. They literally felt as if now the ice pick had been removed and then they were doused in lighter fluid and then set aflame.

Feeling fat. Feeling out of shape. Feeling low.

Kools continued down the block and left me behind and said he would come back. I told him that was fine with me. Actually, I didn't speak because I was breathing too hard. Why on earth could I not even do two miles today without almost collapsing? I walked for about a quarter mile and then just started again. For some reason, it felt better running than it did walking. At least it was a well-earned and honest pain when I ran. Feeling that pain when walking was just like your body laughing at you. Running and feeling the same pain was like you laughing back. We turned the corner to head back to the house and I began to block the pain and then went mentally jogging. My body was failing me at what was supposed to be close to a standard jog after two days of rest.

As we approached the interstate, my body stopped again. But this time, Kools wouldn't let me have it. He said, "C'mon. Finish strong." At this point, I felt like truly finishing strong was impossible, but finishing with dignity was still achievable. I came into a jog again and not only reached the finish point, but jogged past it, I suppose, just to prove that I could overcome it. I cussed the entire final fifth of a mile, but I did it.

And, about thirty minutes later, I found out what it means to "do it until it's running down your leg" except it didn't run down my leg.

Worst run yet. Figured they'd start getting easier before too long, but yesterday's jog was just embarrassing. I don't fall down that easy, though. It's gonna take much more than that to discourage me.

I don't have any neighbors to the north anymore. I really like that. Don't know how I'll get along without the late-night headlights through the bedroom window, cars parked in the lawn, a chihuahua that won't shut up, drug use in the backyard, underage drinking and the alcoholic that drinks there every other evening and keeps his own personal cooler in the car. Think I'll have a long talk with the property owner when he gets his ass up here from Dallas.

I got a copy of the Lions' No Generation from Allegro this week per request. I texted Sarah and Duke down in Austin. Duke replied with, "I think that's the one we picked up at the show. I don't remember, but I think I sold my soul for it. Would do it again." I'm enjoying it this morning. It's quite good. Surprised with how impressive the second side is. The first side rocks, the second rolls.

Bryan is leaving town for the Hub. Wants to throw a pretentious party to celebrate. Of course, that would have to be created because none of us seem to be truly pretentious. I could only last about five minutes. I'm working on the mix. More rock than I'm used to, but we're doing some funk, reggae, hip hop, sweaty soul music, some blues. We're running the gamut. The word "gamut" is the combination of the words "gamma" and "ut" which represents respectively the G of the bass clef and the highest E of the treble clef. You've been learned, homie. Bryan, I need a deadline if I'm going to finish this thing. And don't tell me you're throwing this gig the end of the month because that, of course, is De La Soul in Dallas and I will not compromise that engagement.