Speaking of the Sublime...

Neil Young scowls and I love it. His whole face contorts as if he is singing because he can't bear the taste of the words in his mouth. He throws his whole being into creating and I love it. Bono swoons, Mick Jagger struts. There is something so beautiful about passion. Sometimes they look ridiculous but they are trying with everything they've got. There is a place that can be reached where you no longer care about anything but the doing. A moment, a spot of time where blood is coursing and every cell feels alive. Long ago it was Ballet that moved me. Today I feel it sometimes when I run. When I run, I sweat and I stink. I sometimes think that I haven't really done anything if I haven't sweat or stunk that day. I feel strong, healthy and full when running. I hate my legs--except when I run. When I run I feel their strength and my big strong legs have run through deployments, through worries and stress. Now they run past Marines. I run past men with rifles, I run by the ocean, I run looking at mountains, I run looking at rainbows. I run in marriage and parenthood. I run unsure of who I am, or of what lies ahead. I run while sometimes pushing my child, I run always pushing myself.