Friday, April 18, 2008

dream runs

When my alarm woke me at 5am this morning, I considered my running options. I thought, “Why don’t I add that loop I used to run to my run this morning?” Then I realized that loop didn’t exist in reality, only in my mind. I had never thought of this before: I have dream running routes – not idealized running routes, but ones that exist in my dreams.

As I ran my real 7-mile run, I considered these alternate runs. There are only two, but I run them in my dreams, repeatedly (though nothing like every night) – as one would any real running route.

The first route I have not “run” for a while. It is a city park-style run – not quite Central Park, not quite Rock Creek, but that type. I remember one hill – a lovely gradual hill – which required some effort, but I always felt strong on it. It came after a split in the road – a wide island of very tall leafy trees separated one side of the road from the other. While, in theory, there would be one-way traffic on each side, there were never any cars.

The second route is a suburban town style run – on winding roads with light traffic, lined by houses and trees, with loops that can be added on a whim to add a half mile, a mile, to make that 6-plus-mile run happen. It had hills, like my town does. But none of those roads exist in Cheverly.

I feel odd – recognizing that I have had these recurring dreams – having never done so before. And they seem to be about nothing but running – my dream self getting out for some exercise.

Friday, April 04, 2008


Iz's new game: "taking care" of his baby doll. The game consists of one dangerous situation after another in which Iz promises to help, "I won't let go," but then drops the baby.

"I'll help you!"


"Oh, no! You're falling!"


Some displaced desire to hurt his own baby brother? Maybe. Should I stop him playing like this? I usually just let him go. I am, however, quickly annoyed with the repeated sound of plastic baby skull hitting the ground. And Iz knows he's not supposed to throw toys. But maybe it is good (dare I say it?) for him to take his angst out on a baby that he can't hurt.