Sarah Connor Wouldn't Run, She'd Stand and Fight

On a good day, I've got about 8k in me. This morning, as I was running the Hot Chocolate 15k, I asked myself (numerous times) why I sign up for these impossible feats of athleticism. Sure it was a gorgeous morning and it was a lakefront trail but, honestly, I would much rather walk those 9.32056 miles and enjoy the morning and the view. Running kind of ruins that part of it for me -- I'm a hiker, a stroller. I like a nice promenade.

So I decided to wrap my mind around my reasons for a few miles and come up with 9.32056 of them:

1. To avoid gaining another 15 pounds in my 40s and to help stave off the family tradition of heart disease, high blood pressure and through the roof cholesterol.

2. A playlist that includes Judas Priest into Kim Wilde.

3. The water at mile 7.5 tastes better than all other water in the world.

4. The thrill of pulling out all the stops in the last few yards to pass for good that old guy with the replacement hip and the speedwalking big guy in the t-shirt that says "60 pounds down, 100 to go."

5. Wearing a bandanna like Axl Rose while listening to Welcome to the Jungle.

6. Looking down to see that my fingers are swollen and look like little knackwurst. Or is it bratwurst? One of them is sickly grey color and that one is not me!

7. Tasting blood (from my cracked lip) and sweat while feeling a horrible stitch in my side. Pretending I am Sarah Connor with knife (laser?) wound and then playing "Who's Cooler?"
Who is cooler? Sarah Connor or Rocky? Sarah Connor.
Who is cooler? Sarah Connor or Ripley? Sarah Connor.
Who is cooler? Sarah Connor or Lara Croft?
Didn't see that one, so Sarah Connor.
Who is cooler? Sarah Connor or Linda Hamilton who trained with a Massad agent for a movie role?
Tough choice and reality should win here but ... Sarah Connor.

8. I'm too old to dress up like flapper, Halloween pub crawl the night before, and puke in a garbage can on the side of the street.

9. I temporarily convince myself that the Hustle up the Hancock will be so much easier than this and I should do it.

.32056. That cute little girl handing out a pillowcase full of fun-sized Milky Ways at the end!

Just Because a Record has a Groove

I’m not one of those people who remembers their mother standing over the crib and shaking a rattle. I don’t remember much before 1977 and by that time I was seven years old. If I try hard, I can remember things and put them on the timeline before that, but it takes a lot of effort. ‘Me’ as I know me started when I was seven.

The years before that are a blur; I have a vague, happy feeling about the time with nothing to grab onto. I’m sure I heard a lot of music during that time; I remember Motown and classic rock on the radio of my Dad’s Blue Chevy Blazer. And I still have Vol. 1 of The Wonderful World of Disney Music I got as a Christmas gift sometime after 1972.

“24 Complete Songs! 6 Long-Playing Records! Be sure to get Volumes 1 and 2!” (I blame this early childhood box set pushing for making me agonize over spending money I don’t have on Neil Young Archives Vol. 1 1963-72 and the remastered Beatles box set.)

But my real life in music started with a race at the Sheet Metal Workers Union Picnic and a trip to Chatham Plus. Until I was seven, the Union Picnic was mostly about eating as much boiled sweet corn slathered in butter that my mom would let me get my hands on. But that year, the picnic was about the thrill of victory. I’d entered a girls' race and won. First prize …. record player! The case was covered in mustard-yellow, calico vinyl.

I spent hours listening to my Disney records and the 45s I shared with my sister that were put out by Peter Pan, Cricket and Robin Hood labels. I’m fairly certain my parents didn’t let me get my candy covered hands on their records but, not too long after the big race, my mom let me pick out my first ever grown up record during a shopping trip to Chatham Plus: Stevie Wonder’s Sir Duke.

Chatham Plus was a precursor to the mega stores like Wal*Mart, Meijer, and Target. Places with groceries, clothing, record departments, wrapping paper, garden supplies, tampons and car parts all in one big store. The big thrill for me was the conveyor belt check out system. I'm not exactly sure how it worked, but my memory is that you loaded all your stuff onto the belt at the back of the store and then picked it up, bagged and ready, at the front cashier.

The Sir Duke label didn't have kiddie cartoon characters on it, just brown and mustard yellow paper (it matched the record player!), the TAMLA logo, and a world globe. I sang the lyrics over and over and had no idea who Basie, Miller, Satchmo, or the king of all Sir Duke were. It was years before I heard a voice like Ella’s ringing out. But I sang and danced and clapped my hands and felt that song all over. I still do more than 30 years later and, even though I've never won another race in my life, Sir Duke has been on every playlist I've made to listen to while running.