|Passages & Pathways||
Why is it I always have to do the Frank Newman Marathon Relay? I mean, no matter how (bad?) I feel, no matter the (bad?) weather, no matter what else is going on. And it seems the local runners are catching on too. I’m glad Bob Wade and Kathy Brown continue to carry Frank’s torch. And there’s a reason we all start 26 miles away, up in the mountains, and arrive (after negotiating several mountain passes) down on the Yellowstone in a park in a town far away. It’s a journey – you really go somewhere - you get to see (dense fog and low clouds not withstanding) new mountain ranges appear before you. After it was all said and done last weekend, I started reflecting on what had happened. Didn’t we all go through some kind of a transformative process? Even that young buck who blew by me around mile 21, during the strongest downpour blowing in our faces – and wearing nothing but a pair of shorts!!! And he had this wide grin on his face, and gave me the strongest encouragement I had all day!!! It became so clear that all participants must feel their own sense of a “hero’s journey” – to use Joseph Campbell’s phrase. Even those who just run/walk just one segment of the 26 miles. You can feel everyone out on the course. I would venture to say that the more challenging the weather, the more one feels engaged in the true hero’s journey. Some of you might not be familiar with Joseph Campbell. I’m a regular Bill Moyer’s fan (PBS) and he interviewed Joseph Campbell many times – and produced a series called “The Power of Myth”. As always, I recommend it highly. So, here’s a version of my own “hero’s journey” on May 23rd. These types of journeys usually start with a deep, debilitating reluctance to actually start the journey. All the doubts, fears, and insecurities flood in, making it seem absolutely impossible. I was nursing a heel injury, had stopped being able even walk comfortably. I also knew I HAD to go on this journey. Why? A voice deep inside told me I had no choice, that it would not only be all right, but I would gain new, unknown strengths in the process. My rational mind said “Don’t listen to that stupid voice!” My inner Self said “You’ve been on this threshold so many times before, have I ever let you down?” So, I handed Bob Wade my registration and $3 at 8pm May 21st. Big sigh. I drove the course the next day, hiding my 3 caches of goodies and drink. Just like I always do. I would run/walk the whole thing by myself, early start (5:46am), and kept shaking my head on how stupid I was to even be doing this. Here’s a brief description Joseph Campbell gives of a typical hero’s journey: “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.” And, the 1st step is always filled with doubt…. “can I handle the challenges that always come with this journey?” There I was, all alone, standing at that white spray-painted line near mile #13 on Bridger Canyon Road. It was 5:45am. It was raining. Dark. No one around…but my thoughts. I started the stopwatch, and took the first tentative steps. Darn it, the pain was still there. “Why am I doing this stupid thing anyway?” I screamed. Oh, right… I’m on some stupid quest or something.” Well, my ride was long gone, I had already stepped off the cliff, and was starting to fall. Might as well make the most of it.” Off I went. And then something magical happened. I didn’t realize it at first. My mind was drawn away from the pain, the thrill of the actual journey flooded my horizon. An elk ran across the road and glided over the fence right in front of my eyes. Now, don’t go thinking weird thoughts here, but that elk became SO symbolic to me. He (she?) became my guide of sorts, my protector, my muse. I was in a different world where pain can’t exist. My 1st walking mile was a 13:45. Heck, I only had 25 more to go, and the goal would be achieved. No sweat. And so it went, mile after mile. I felt a gaining strength throughout the whole morning. And I had lots of help along the way. The 1st relay point arrived around 7am, and no one is ever there that early. But just as I crossed that painted line, a Subaru came around the corner, stopped, and out hopped a man I recognized as usually being there every year. He was my first human helper along the way. We exchanged greetings, shook hands, and I felt like a million bucks. The tone was set for the next many hours. Strong, clear, powerful energy just pouring through me. Ironically, this “high” seems to need to be tested. Cresting Bozeman Pass – and still way out “in front of the pack”, out ran Kay Newman to offer a refreshing drink in the rain. Thanks for being there Kay. And then the wind hit, with rain, most of the way into Livingston. At its worst as I neared the 3rd relay station – with rain blasting me in the face - out ran Darryl Baker to offer me a warm hat – I hadn’t thought to get mine out – I was having too much fun playing with the rain. That’s when I realized I was not letting the tough times into my world. I suppose I could have been miserable, but during my hero’s journey – no sirree!! And, as usual, the last several miles are the toughest, requiring a doubling of effort. In the context of the journey I was on, it only meant I needed to call on this boundless source within, and there was the finish line. Please permit me to quote Joseph Campbell one last time. This may seem over the top, but the FNMR is just a microcosm of what happens all the time: "The returning hero, to complete his adventure, must survive the impact of the world. Many failures attest to the difficulties of this life-affirmative threshold. The first problem of the returning hero is to accept as real, after an experience of the soul-satisfying vision of fulfillment, the passing joys and sorrows, banalities and noisy obscenities of life. Why re-enter such a world? Why attempt to make plausible, or even interesting, to men and women consumed with passion, the experience of transcendental bliss? As dreams that were momentous by night may seem simply silly in the light of day, so the poet and the prophet can discover themselves playing the idiot before a jury of sober eyes. The easy thing is to commit the whole community to the devil and retire again into the heavenly rock dwelling, close the door, and make it fast. But if some spiritual obstetrician has drawn the shimenawa across the retreat, then the work of representing eternity in time, and perceiving in time eternity, cannot be avoided" The hero returns to the world of common day and must accept it as real.” And so goes the journey. Sitting on a bench under the pavilion in the park, wolfing down my Subway sandwich, I couldn’t find the appropriate words to describe what had just happened. Best leave before I get all mushy. Before getting into the awaiting car, I turned around to look at all the people gathered in the rain, and realized every single person had just completed their own hero’s journey, whether they realized it or not. - David Summerfield
While watching a live feed of the Boston Marathon today (April 20), it was impossible not to re-live the former “glory days” which all mature runners have tucked neatly away somewhere in their souls. Watching the 1000’s of runners crossing the finish line around the 3 hour mark – all looking so smooth, effortless, and strong….well, I was transported into a different dimension of reality. Suddenly, I was there (consciously I knew it was 30 years ago, but time had obviously stopped). And I really mean “I was there”. I was in the middle of the crowd of 3 hour finishers, floating along, looking to my right and left, seeing the runners in front of me that I would have to get by, looking down at my watch, “yep, I can still make it under 3:00”. Then I started hearing music, but not the kind of music I’m accustomed to at finish lines. This was no adrenalin-infused victory scene. It was utterly peaceful music, ethereal music – flutes, violins, and a low throbbing heartbeat-like rhythm. The drone of runners’ footsteps all around me had faded away. All the cheering was gone. “Hey, what’s going on around here?” I yelled. The runner to my left told me to shut up and listen, because the Coach was about to speak. Now this was all too weird.
The guy to my right had a vague familiarity to him. I took another closer look, and saw his eyes, and it was my Coach. Well, now I was confused. It wasn’t really MY coach – I had never really liked my running coach – he had had no faith in me, and kept asking me to quit the team – I was so slow. But this was somehow my real Coach, or someone I wanted to be my coach. All I knew was that I admired him – I always had. Oh, maybe he was at one of those coaches’ conferences I used to attend where famous runners give out coaching tips. Out of the corner of my eye, the runner on my right glanced over at me, and had this knowing smile on his face. All of a sudden, he started speaking to me. No! I thought. Not right in the middle of the home stretch of the Boston Marathon for heaven’s sake! But he said very calmly, David, I’m here to remind you of your greatness, and to help you with your next step. I glanced around and realized that everyone around me was not only moving in slow motion, but they were basically motionless. It had been raining the whole run, I knew that. But the raindrops were suspended in air. There was no breeze. Mentally I felt like I was still building up to that last big surge to the finish line, but it didn’t seem to matter any more. The music stopped, and there was nothing but an inexpressible silence all around me. After what seemed like an eternity, I realized I could care less about whatever it was I had been doing. Time had vanished. There was no urgency. All that mattered was what had just been spoken by someone with such an amazing eye contact. The Coach gently said: I’ve been told you are wanting more out of life, and want to really wake-up and start doing something more satisfying than trying to hold onto past glories. I thought: How did you know? It doesn’t matter how I know…you just get going now. And, don’t forget!
I asked: Don’t forget what? But when I glanced up into that serene face, the face was gone. And not only gone, but the runners behind me were yelling to watch out so they didn’t trample over me. There was no problem stepping on the gas – and I exploded past the row of runners in front of me, and then realized the finish line was a distant memory and there I was all alone, on my normal, boring route I usually go on every morning. First chance I had, I stopped on someone’s lawn, and just sat down. What had just happened? I closed my eyes, and could hear my heart pounding. I could feel the welling up of tears. Everything that had just happened seemed eerily familiar, though other-worldly. When I opened my eyes again, there I was in my chair, in front of my computer, and the live feed was still going on, the elapsed time was now around 3:25, with that endless crowd of runners bearing down on the finish line. The look in their eyes seemed strangely different this time. They looked bored, hanging onto life, plodding along, with the announcer at the finish line, in a monotone voice, saying over and over again on the loudspeakers: Let’s give a big hand to all the runners….you’re looking great….you’re looking great….let’s give a big hand to all the runners….you’re looking great…you’re looking great. But wait a minute….what was I supposed to remember? - David Summerfield
FYI: (referring to the picture below) “Meb” is probably the most famous current American marathoner – he won the Boston Marathon last year – 1st time an American has won it since 1983!! And this year, nearing the finish line – and out of contention to win (he was only a few minutes back) – he drew alongside this “elite” woman runner (the women were given a 25 minute head start, so some of them could finish with the “elite” men), grabbed her hand, and they crossed together, instead of dashing past her at the finish.
Hilary must have been channeling her inner mature runner the entire race!
Meb Keflezighi and Hilary Dionne cross the 2015 Boston Marathon finish line together (Winslow Townson-USA TODAY Sports)
From what I’ve read, (okay, I googled it…) those of us in the “second half of life”, or approaching it (and I can’t decide exactly where I am – but I MUST be approaching it pretty soon, I think I found a grey hair…) – we often rearrange our priorities (stop working so much, perhaps be less involved in family, start doing what one really wants). And this opens up opportunities for more creative endeavors…like George Bush taking up painting portraits of world leaders (such as Putin), or Grandma Moses taking up painting at age 78 (yes, look her up – she’s still an inspiration to me), or Laura Ingalls Wilder publishing “Little House on the Prairie” books starting at age 64. Unable to figure out how to create an article for this month’s newsletter, I went for it and googled “I need inspiration for writing articles for runners” – hoping to finally stump Mr. Google. No way. The 1st web result was a gold mine. And that made me wonder about AI (artificial intelligence) – which is a hot topic among scientists. If this article I’m about to quote was already in a robot’s “mind” (which it would be, right?) - then it would know what to do for an article in a nanosecond. Suddenly, I feel quite inferior!
Back to creativity. Haruki Murakami is a very creative writer. He’s also a runner, and wrote a beautiful piece about how running has made him the writer he is. So, take note, dear runner. And, naturally, he came into his creative own later in life. He gave up a career as a successful jazz bar owner in Tokyo – and just wanted to be more creative. For Haruki, this creative process has become a sport, and he laid out a 3-step process. You 1st have to have talent. I wanted to quickly move on to #2, figuring this talent thing has been eluding me. His analogy helped – you can have the most phenomenal car in the world, but it won’t run unless you put fuel into it. The fuel here is talent, and I intellectualized enough to figure I have plenty of fuel (how else can one get up day after day and put in the endless miles?). #2 is focus. Now, that’s what I was waiting for. Most of us committed (asylum?) runners run/walk/ski/ bike/etc. because of our need to focus for several hours a day – focus on something more interesting than earning a living, the daily grind, etc. And the stronger the focus, the more you can compensate for meager talent. Whew! #3 is endurance. Ah, I can already feel it, I’m destined to be a great writer J Haruki said “focus and endurance—are different from talent, since they can be acquired and sharpened through training. You’ll naturally learn both concentration and endurance when you sit down every day at your desk and train yourself to focus on one point.” So, dear endurance runner, you can approach any task at hand, and apply all those years of running/exercising and master whatever endeavor you wish. The next step for Haruki is to create a life that places “the highest priority on the sort of life that lets me focus on writing.” Watch out – now this is getting serious! It means taking the discipline you’ve developed over years and apply it to something creative, and that will require you to carve out the time every day (as you do for running) to hone a new skill. But you know how to do it already. As Jocelyn Glie wrote (she’s the editor of this website “99u.com” I’m reading, which is called “Insights On Making Ideas Happen”): “To say YES to one thing, we always have to say NO to some others. Sometimes we forget we can only juggle so many things these days…” In daydreaming about my super- competitive days of running (and actually it still happens every time I rehearse for a concert or opera, and finally get to step out on stage and actually do it), I really connected to this comment by Andy Stuart: “Practice is where you do the work, so when it comes time to perform, performance becomes play.” So, here I am playing at my computer, which Dee Metrick makes me do once every month (at least). And my historical fiction novel just sits in bits and pieces scattered around my hard drive, waiting for a more disciplined (all right, daily) practice. So, go for it. Stop waiting for it to just happen. I expect big, creative things from the Big Sky Wind Drinkers!! Oh, and I just have to quote Rainer Maria Rilke (long distance runners hone this to perfection): “What is necessary, after all, is only this: solitude. To walk inside yourself and meet no one for hours – that is what you must be able to attain.” “Always trust yourself and your own feeling…Allow your judgments their own silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened.” - David Summerfield
Here’s a topic I never thought would come up in an article for runners. The other day I was feeling a little “moody” (I remember calling it “low energy”). Then the thought came – do men have the equivalent of “menopause”? So, of course I googled it. Having no medical training, don’t believe a word I say, but you could also google it yourself! (or, as all the articles mention, consult your medical professional before doing anything about it….:-) Men go through slightly similar conditions as women – as the body slows down its production of (women) estrogen, and (men) testosterone. For some reason the medical community prefers calling the male hormone “androgen”, so what guys go through is called “andropause”. I will quickly point out that what men “go through” is not at all like what women go through (again, this is just personal observation)! The initial symptoms are similar – moodiness, loss of libido (who, me?), fatigue, weight gain (right!), depression, decreased muscle mass and bone loss. But it stops there. Men can continue fathering children, and nowhere in the material I read did it include “hot flashes”. So, we guys have it easy.
The only mention of a cure (or a way to alleviate the symptoms) was through “exercise, better diet, and a decrease in alcohol consumption”. That’s it. So, it’s easy to see why I witnessed a doubling of effort to keep an intense physical routine going these past 15 years. It does take a chunk out of the day (an hour or 2 here or there, everyday). But I also have experienced a normal flow of energy, and a very rare spate of moodiness. Actually, I don’t think that’s the correct word. I just call it “low energy” – where I don’t feel like doing much of anything. I sat in front of my computer wanting to write this article yesterday, and NOTHING came out. I just sat there, and actually fell asleep staring at the computer screen. At first I attributed it all to my lack of desire to confront this topic, but – no – it was just me “falling asleep at the wheel” from several intense cross-country ski workouts in a row.
What else can one do, besides hours on the road/on the skis/on the bike/on the trail? I can’t say how much I have enjoyed the prospect of “growing mature” (I did NOT say “growing old” – okay?). My only regret so far is that my hair hasn’t started turning white yet. I want that ultimate sign of wisdom. (hmmm, that implies I know I really am NOT wise, but just want the symbol to suggest it might be true!) Turning 50, and then 60, and soon 70 – I’ve waited for these years as a chance to finally do what I really have always wanted to do. I call it following “noble pursuits” – being more involved in community events, being kind to animals, helping old ladies cross the street – you know the schtick…and basically not having to work to earn a living! I’m talking about doing something that really makes a difference… (I know, I know, our everyday work is supposed to be productive AND constructive, but sometimes the routine makes it all seem a bit blah.). (….lapse of time…) Oh dear, I just fell asleep again at the computer. Andropause, my foot! Actually, many medical professionals do not subscribe to the existence of such a phenomenon, so I’m probably off the hook anyway. I’m not about to take supplements since I don’t really think its real (in my case of course), and besides, the downside to supplements are pretty heavy.
I have heard some people in my age bracket who occasionally take stock of their lives, and wonder if their lives have been, what? Worthwhile, productive, did they make a difference, the whole legacy-thing – what am I leaving behind that matters? That has never bothered me much, since I’m too busy gearing up for the next workout (… or falling asleep at the computer!). But now that I bring it all up, yes, I think I should start spending more time/energy on weighing in on the “worthwhile” factor of things as I choose what to do each day. There. Its done, and now I can go take a nap, or go skiing, or any other worthwhile activity!! - David Summerfield
Now What Do I Do - Since The Earth Will Soon Vanish?
This is a follow-up to last month’s article about the fact that the Earth will eventually disintegrate and so we have little reason to “sweat the small stuff”. That’s my take on Vlad’s comments as an astrophysicist. I realized I might sound awfully nihilistic. (I am NOT a nihilist, by the way!) So where to go from here? Knowing that the current civilizations on Earth will be gone long before we can have contact from other intelligent life-forms from somewhere else in the universe, well…..how does one go about a “normal” life with any meaning? I must admit that for awhile, I started questioning why I should go “work-out” at all! Or, why go to work? Why earn a living and go through all those all-too-familiar gyrations everyday? Why not speed up the current gradual physical decline a lot of us notice? I mean, stop brushing teeth….stop taking showers….eat junk food (well, at least lots of chocolate – like me stuffing as many M&M’s in my mouth before starting this essay because – well – they taste good, and I received a momentary good feeling all around!) So, in case some of you dear Wind Drinkers were tempted to do something drastic too, here’s my story:
I figure there must be some kind of built-in safety switch inside me somewhere. If I contemplate the notion of “oh, what’s the use?” – I don’t last too long in that dark place. To not brush teeth just one day, and I can’t live with myself (please notice the irony of that last phrase!). Not showering, and the same thing happens. Even if I were told that the Earth would disintegrate next week, I know I’d take my beloved shower every night, I’d go out neat and clean and having just had the best workout of the week. Why on Earth would I do that? Seems pretty comical. I’ve tried going without some kind of a decent workout for one week, and life is just too blah. Taking a day-off after a killer workout (or 2, heaven forbid) and I can’t stand the feeling. The feeling of what? Frankly, the body demands me to keep it in the best shape possible, and that requires constant working at it.
Last week while skate skiing up that 1st mile hill on Sourdough, I passed a couple guys talking. They pulled over to give me more room, and as I was passing the first one, I heard “There goes another one – gliding up the hill as if it weren’t there – how does he do it?” I didn’t have time to say anything more than “It’s fun” – but I was thinking – “I work at this every day all winter long so I can actually DO this!” The result is “freedom from the restraints of the body” – plain and simple. That must be why I have to brush teeth, take showers, eat, work, etc. – so I can enjoy what freedoms I can – freedom from being trapped inside a body. And, if I get too consumed by some little activity (like having to keep track of miles – which, by the way, stopped about 7 months ago – whew!!) – then that’s the result of Vlad’s revelations: the Earth is a very temporary celestial body, and that we will probably never communicate with another intelligent alien civilization since the distances between us is too many millions of light years!! And, assuming we all have an inherent built-in safety mechanism that drives us all to keep our lives and bodies and beings integrated, then – enjoy it to the fullest. And, if someone doesn’t seem to have this kind of integrated being, I would encourage them to start skiing or running – some activity that gets them outside (no matter the weather) and gets their heart-rate up, and produces sweat and makes them hungry for (good?) food afterwards, and gives them solid sleep – and gets them ready to start it all over again the next day.
And this thinking about personal freedom made me look up what Jean-Paul Sartre said about freedom. I started wondering if this quest for freedom would be the same if I were the only one on earth. I found this quote of Sartre: (you must indulge the philosophy-major I was) “We will freedom for freedom’s sake, in and through particular circumstances. And in thus willing freedom, we discover that it depends entirely upon the freedom of others and that the freedom of others depends upon our own. Obviously, freedom as the definition of a man does not depend upon others, but as soon as there is a commitment, I am obliged to will the liberty of others at the same time as my own. I cannot make liberty my aim unless I make that of others equally my aim.” So, there you have it. This is why I write these little essays – my freedoms depend on you and your freedoms, and this must be the reason the wise ones always say “We Are All One”. I need you to be free (or whatever) for me to be free. I need you to be loose, supple, strong – for me to be the same. HA! And you thought Vlad the Astrophysicist went off the deep end! I followed right along…… - David Summerfield
I heard this on NPR, January 31st, 2010 on “The Saturday Show On Sunday” with TJ Starr. It’s a recording made by Peter Mulvey called “Vlad The Astrophysicist”. I just thought about it recently, and decided I should “reprint” a former article I submitted to this newsletter almost 5 years ago. It stopped me dead in my tracks, and still does. All of our petty concerns, including whether or not we have “shifted”, or gotten that cherished PR, or achieved the ideal weight, or need a job or a better home or "fulfillment" – “pffftt” – its all ultimately of no lasting importance. (OMG – that sounds nihilistic.) You be the judge. Peter Mulvey narrated this while playing a beautiful guitar instrumental. The astrophysicist is a real person – Vladimir Chaloupka, a professor of physics at the University of Washington (Seattle). They both attended the National Youth Science Camp in West Virginia. If you don’t know of Peter Mulvey (I didn’t) this is his 12th album, and quite captivating. Here’s my transcript (Oh, and by the way, my “pffftt” is the best I can do to imitate Vlad’s sound he made with his mouth and tongue…):
(Background sound of being on a jet cruising at high altitude….) “4th of December, 2008 - Over the Eastern Seaboard.
Dear Adeline ~ Far below, the long evening light is fleeing the mountains of Nova Scotia. With any luck, I will sleep in the sky tonight and wake in Ireland. This summer, for reasons that are too complicated to go into here, I found myself sitting behind a motel in remote West Virginia with an astrophysicist from the Czech Republic, named Vlad. Vlad and I see each other every few years and we get along famously – probably because I love astrophysics and he loves music, and we love beer. In fact, we had found some beer at a gas station and we were drinking and talking as we sat in the metal chairs there by the river that goes behind the motel, looking up at a huge West Virginia sky full of stars. “Vlad,” I said, “I’ve always wanted to know the answer to this question, and you strike me as the only guy I’m ever going to meet who can give me an answer, so lay it on me pal, are there intelligent civilizations out there, other than us, and if there are, why haven’t they contacted us?” Vlad looked at me over his glasses, “That is two questions. First question is easy to answer – the answer is yes – many. Given the number of stars, the abundance of amino acids everywhere in the universe you look, very possibly many many civilizations have arisen. Now, the second question,‘why have they not contacted us’, that is the real question. And this is difficult to answer but here is my best guess. You must use your imagination.” And he held his hands out at shoulder width and he said, “Imagine the entire universe is only about this big, only the size of a beach ball. I mean, the universe is not spherical, but go with me on this, OK? Now, imagine that all of time (13 ½ billion years from the big bang until now) – imagine that that goes by in, say, 5 minutes. On that scale, consider us: we are an intelligent civilization, yes? We make radio waves, rocket ships, baseball, Great Wall of China, Bach sonatas – clearly an intelligent civilization. The question is – how long do we last? Hmm? Another 5,000 years, 50,000, another 5 million years? It does not matter. On the universal scale that I am asking you to consider, those all look the same, they look like this,” and he held his hand in front of him with thumb and forefinger pressed together and parted them for the barest instant. And as he did so he made a sound through his teeth – “phffftt” – he looked at me to see if I understood. Every human that has ever lived and will ever live, all the history we have made and ever will make – “phffftt” – he paused to let that sink in. It sank in. “So,” he said, “here is the universe.” And again he held his hands out defining the space. “And here are the intelligent civilizations as they arise in the universe.” And he moved his hand here – “phffftt” – then here – “phffftt” – then here – “phffftt”. You see,” he said, “they never meet each other. Time is too long. Space is too large. I mean sure, maybe at one time it happened right next to each other at the same time – ‘phffftt’ – 2 civilizations sprang up and they had war - better yet – they had peace – they had art exchanges - they had an intergalactic library – but they are all dead now too. In all likelihood we are alone, and by the time the next civilization arises, we will have been gone for a long time.” I looked back at the sky still so full of stars. I probably don’t need to tell you that, although they looked exactly the same as they had a couple of minutes ago, they looked completely different. I didn’t say anything for a minute. Then I said, “Vlad, would you like another beer?”
“Anyhow, Adeline, the word from your household is this week you began lifting your head up all by yourself, looking around at the faces that hover around your crib, occasionally favoring one of them with a smile. You keep up the good work. - Love, Uncle Peter.”
And with that….have a great 2015, but don’t get too hung up on the “small stuff” if you can!!!
- David Summerfield
David Nutter Summerfield
The following blogs were first published in The Windrinker, a running newsletter published in Bozeman, MT (www.Windrinkers.org). There is a constant attempt at viewing the foibles of long distance runners in a humorous light so we don't take ourselves too seriously.