Even Better Than the Real Thing

Admin note: I’m still tinkering with the new template, so you’re getting a random quickie today for your viewing pleasure. Keep sending feedback as you see fit.

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I’m reaching pretty far back into the video vault again today – but it’s a clip that represents one of my favorite developments from 2008.

Last summer, my son accompanied me to a showing of U2 3D at our local IMAX theater. It was his first taste of the rock concert experience (actually … in many ways, it was better than a real concert – but that’s a separate discussion), and a baptism of sorts into the vast community of U2 fandom.

He completely loved the movie, and I burned him a CD of the playlist from the concert. His favorite song was “Vertigo”, which he played in a repetitive loop for hours on end during the next several weeks (needless to say, my wife wasn’t thrilled about this development).

In my true audiophile (not to mention obsessive-compulsive) fashion, I made sure that several of the songs I included on his CD were live versions, as a reminder of the energy he saw on the big screen. Which led to the following exchange one day while we listened to the CD together:

Me: Hear all those people cheering? I’m one of them.

Son: What do you mean?

Me: This song was recorded at a concert a long time ago, when I lived in Colorado for a while. I was at the show that they recorded.

Him: Really?

Me: Yeah. It was awesome. They even made a movie out of it.

Him: Cool.

Later, I showed him a couple of clips on YouTube - and just like that, my rock star cred with my son jumped about ten notches.

Since then, he has continued listening to his concert CD, and asked me to burn other U2 songs for him. He’s well on his way to becoming a full-fledged fan – and as silly as it sounds, I’m kind of proud of him for it. I know there are far more important parenting responsibilities to worry about in life – but if I can instill a bit of music appreciation in my kids, I’ll consider my job at least a partial success.

So here’s one of the songs that started it all for him, just as it started it all for me more than twenty-five years ago: U2’s "Sunday Bloody Sunday”, live at Red Rocks, under a blood red sky: (click to play)

And, in honor of the day, and to see how far the band has evolved in a quarter-century, here's another one: "New Year's Day", from the Vertigo Tour:



Happy New Year to all.

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Running and Rambling 3.0

“He knows changes aren’t permanent … but change is.”
- Rush, “Tom Sawyer”

(I know … the song selection is totally old school, but this band had one of the most devoted fan bases in the history of rock music, who remain fiercely loyal to this day. Think of it as a “one foot in the past, and one in the future” type of post.)

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So … notice anything different around here?

I was planning to roll out a new template sometime after the first of the year, but since 1) things have quieted down a bit more than I expected lately, and 2) my community college pool is closed for another week (preventing me from swimming at midday), I figured I’d cut the ribbon on the new layout a few days early.

I’ll have more to say about it soon – probably a whole post of administrative notes, if history is any indication. Until then, I’m still tinkering around with things (like sidebar links) quite a bit, so don’t be shocked if something is here one day and gone or relocated the next. Also, please let me know if things aren’t loading properly or if the format fits your monitor poorly. This is only the second time I've given the blog a makeover, so I'm not nearly as efficient as I'd like to be when it comes to identifying unforseen glitches.

In the meantime … here's a vintage MTV-era video from the aforementioned Rush, who were the greatest band on the face of the Earth for countless uncool, misfit, solitary dreamers – and yes, I counted myself among them. (Click to play):

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Let it Shine

"This little light of mine -
I'm gonna let it shine ..."
- Negro spiritual

At first glance, you might not even notice it:


It’s just an average-looking evergreen tree in a small-town park. It doesn’t have the prominence of Carmel Valley's tall pines, or the asthetic beauty and majestic strength of its abundant oaks.


Eleven months of the year, there’s nothing to really distinguish this tree from its more distinctive, more impressive cousins who share the little plot of open space where families hold barbecues and kids play soccer. Even during the 12th month, if you pass this tree in daylight hours, most people wouldn’t even give it a second look.

But in the month of December, when the sun sets behind the ridgeline and the sky grows black, a brand new tree emerges:


The average-looking evergreen assumes a brand new, unmistakably important identity. It becomes the Carmel Valley Christmas Tree. It’s visible to everybody who drives past the park, and serves as one of the few reminders of the holiday season in our laid-back, warm-weather village.

Now, the tree doesn’t decorate itself, and there’s no reason why another tree wouldn’t work just as well for this task; but year after year, this is the tree that’s chosen. And perhaps – because it is just an average tree – there’s something to be taken from its presence in the community park. If we look really hard, maybe we can see something of ourselves in the tree.

Despite how we sometimes feel, none of us are ever just average. There’s a radiance we can display, even if it’s only at particular times or under certain circumstances. We rely on help from others, but in doing so, we become more vibrant than we ever imagined. In doing so, we might inspire others to seek the important things in life as well.

Be proud of who you are. Don’t fret about your standing in life. Accept the goodwill of others. Share your beauty with the world.

And never be reluctant to let your light shine.

**

Postscript: as strange as it seems, you may not find a more stirring, more uplifting version of this old Negro spiritual than the version Bruce Springsteen - white, working class, rock hero Springsteen - performs in concert. Click and enjoy:

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What It's All About

If the video in this post looks familiar, there’s good reason: I posted the exact same thing here last December.

However, since this is the season to celebrate traditions, I figure that I could embed the clip once again, in hopes that it might become an official Running and Rambling holiday tradition.

The clip is the centerpiece of A Charlie Brown Christmas, which - for reasons I described last year - stands head and shoulders above the crowd as the most meaningful and entertaining holiday special of all time. It’s the scene where Linus describes what Christmas is all about:



Nearly every time I’ve watched the video in recent years, two thoughts stand out …

First – what are the odds that anything approaching this clip would be made today? It seems almost incomprehensible that a proposal featuring a popular children’s character quoting scripture would be green-lighted by any major network; it would be seen as too polarizing, or controversial, to risk offending people and alienating sponsors. We live in a much more politically sensitive society than existed 40 years ago; generally speaking, that’s probably a good thing – but in the case of this cartoon, I’m not so sure.

Finally … No matter how many years may eventually pass me by, or how mature I might someday become - I don’t think I’ll ever feel the meaning of Christmas any greater than I do during those sixty seconds when I see Linus standing under the quiet spotlight, reciting the Gospel of Luke while holding his security blanket. It’s an important reminder of the meaning of it all - one that’s just as necessary today as it was in 1965.

Here’s hoping that we remember what it’s all about this year. Merry Christmas, everybody.

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Letters to Santa

By this point, Santa’s probably had just about enough of me.

For the past four years, I’ve written a “Runner’s Letter to Santa” for my Monterey Herald column; 2008’s version follows below. However, it’s not enough that I besiege the guy with requests in our local paper (which, of course, I’m certain that he reads) – because for each of the past few years, my 7-year-old daughter faithfully submits requests on my behalf also.

Last year, I described how she lobbied St Nicholas for a new flashlight that I would eventually use to get me through the night of my first 100-mile trail race. This year, when she asked me what I needed, I realized that I’m pretty well equipped for an attempted encore performance next summer.

However, she recognizes that there’s always a particular necessity that I’ll need in ample supply – so she scribbled the following lines into her annual wish list:

"A pair of men's size 11 trail running shoes for Dad"

Yes, she’s sweet. Yes, she knows me well. And yes, I know how lucky I am.

So I think I'm taken care of for Santa's visit next week. Here’s my letter from the Monterey Herald.

**

Running Life 12/18/08 “Gifts of Giving”


To: Santa Claus, North Pole
From: Donald B., Carmel Valley
Re: Wish List

Dear Santa –

Hi! It’s your favorite Monterey County running columnist again. You’ve been great at giving me the stuff I’ve asked for in years past.

Honestly, Santa, I know that 2008 has been a brutal year. You’ve probably got people asking for jobs or retirement funds that have vanished, or for help paying mortgages and medical expenses. So I understand if the requests of one crazy runner fall pretty low on the list of priorities.

But you know what, Santa? Things are actually going OK for me. I’m fortunate to still have those things that are most dear, and I’ve enjoyed another healthy year of running. So I thought I’d help you out by sharing in the gift-giving this year.

Under the right circumstances, runners can be a pretty generous group – but we sometimes need a little bit of help. This year, the following gifts would allow runners to help others:

1. Continued success for local races

Almost all of our local road races were created as fundraisers for charities or nonprofit organizations. The more successful the race is, the more the charities benefit.

Unfortunately, in tough economic times, it gets harder to justify paying $30 for a 5K or $80 for a half-marathon, so a lot of races struggle to survive. I hope that more runners can still afford to help these races stay successful in 2009.

2. Second life for old shoes

Santa, I don’t have to tell you how quickly runners go through running shoes. Frankly, I’m kind of ashamed to admit how many pairs I wore out in the past 12 months.

However, just because a shoe is too broken down for training doesn’t mean it’s not good for anything. Most of the shoes that runners discard can still be used for many months by people less fortunate than us.

Luckily, both of our local running stores – The Treadmill in Carmel, and Fleet Feet in Monterey – accept used running shoes, which they redistribute to charity organizations. We’d like for those old shoes to serve others for as long as possible.

(Online addendum: there are plenty of national organizations who do this as well. Click here for starters.)

3. A Just Run program in every school

You know all about our Just Run program – right, Santa? It teaches elementary students all about healthy eating and exercise, and is an easy way to promote fitness and combat childhood obesity.

The program has had great results, but I’d like for it to do even better. Could you please help the adult volunteers in each school get the support they need to succeed, and help any interested parents to implement the program in schools that don’t have it yet?

And if for some reason you don’t know about Just Run, go to this website and learn all about it.

4. Shared blessings

New running programs aren’t just about kids, though – and I’d like to see the gift of running shared with more people next year, Santa.

Like I said before – running has been good to me. And since Christmas is supposed to be about giving, here’s what I’d like most of all: to inspire one person, or maybe two, or even 100 (but I don’t want to seem greedy) to start a running program for their own health and enjoyment. If you could somehow help me to do that next year, Santa, you will make this runner very happy indeed.

Thanks a lot, Santa. Best wishes and safe travels next week!

Sincerely,

Donald B.
Carmel Valley, CA

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Fools in the Ra ... What?!

Actual conversation between a running partner and me that took place in pitch darkness shortly after 5:30AM yesterday, on the first major climb of our weekly 12-mile trail run:


Me: Hey – does this rain seem strange to you?

Him: What do you mean?

Me: Well, I can tell that it’s hitting me, but it feels different than usual. It has a different impact when it lands or something.

Him: I hadn’t noticed.

Me: And I know we’re getting wet, but there’s kind of a delay to it. There’s definitely something weird about this.

Him: Hard to tell – it all looks the same in the headlamps.


The confusion was ultimately set aside - to my partner’s relief, I’m sure – and we soon found ourselves at the top of the climb.

About 45 minutes and 700 feet of descent later, daybreak arrived with an easily recognizable rainstorm, soaking and chilling us for the last few miles of our run. We hit the parking lot, and only paused for a quick fist bump before jumping into the shelter of our cars and heading off our respective ways.

It wasn’t until later in the day that I looked back towards the hills we had run on that morning – and this was the sight I saw:


That would be snow, on the slopes of Mount Toro, rising above Steinbeck’s Pastures of Heaven. Our run was on the opposite side of the valley, and at a lower elevation - but suddenly the oddity of the morning’s precipitation became clear: we had been running through a snow flurry! It wasn't quite cold enough to stick to the ground where we were - although at 30 degrees, it was plenty cold for me - but the flakes were definitely falling on us while the storm headed toward the top of the mountain.

Monterey County typically gets snow about once or twice per year, but sometimes several winters will pass without the necessary ingredients converging at the right time to create measurable snowfall. Last Monday night and Tuesday morning, all the conditions came together for one of the earliest snow storms that most people around here can ever recall.

And I can say that I was running in it. How awesome is that?

However, lest you get the wrong idea about any of this, let me be clear: running in the snow isn’t something I want make a habit of. Prior to yesterday, it’s been more than ten years since I’ve done it – and while the memories are vivid, I’m not exactly nostalgic for the ghost of cold, snowy winters past. So I’m hoping to chalk this up as a very cool fluke of circumstance, then return to the regular 65-degree December days that are the reason I live here.

In other words: Welcome, Winter. Please go away soon.

**

Finally, since I’ve been musing about John Steinbeck lately, here’s another snow picture I took yesterday, featuring one of his favorite spots. In Travels with Charley in Search of America, he described Fremont Peak this way:

“This solitary stone peak overlooks the whole of my childhood and youth, the great Salinas Valley stretching south for nearly a hundred miles, the town of Salinas where I was born now spreading like a crab grass toward the foothills.”


And there you have it - Steinbeck Country under snow. Here's hoping this is the last time I have to write about this.

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December Ramblings

Actually, these aren’t so much ramblings as they are follow-up notes from previous posts – but for some reason, “December Follow-ups” didn’t have as catchy a ring to it. So to stay true to the rambling spirit, I’ll throw in a new item at the end of this post.

OK then. On with the updates …

* Last week, during a water break on our weekly bike ride, my son and I got to see a coyote. It spotted us from about 50 yards away, but didn’t show any apprehension about our proximity – in fact, he stared at us for a minute, and came as close as about 25 yards before he disappeared into the brush.

Here’s the take-home lesson I learned that day: if you ever want to get a 10-year-old boy excited about mountain biking, you should arrange to have a coyote walk up to you during a water break someday. My son was already scheduling our next ride before we even reached the car.

And before you ask … no, I didn’t get a picture of the coyote – but here’s a shot of the area we ride in, with my son doing his best Lance Armstrong at Leadville impersonation:

Not a bad place to spend a weekday evening, huh?

* Remember how I set a goal to swim 25 yards of underwater dolphin kick after watching Michael Phelps do it against Anderson Cooper? Well, last week I got 'er done. On a degree of difficulty scale, I’d say the challenge ranks higher than the “25 underwater - single breath - 25 freestyle breath holder”, but not as tough as a straight underwater 50.

Actually, I was kind of disappointed that the feat wasn’t a bit more difficult to accomplish. Instead of feeling proud of myself, I couldn’t help but wonder: if I could do 25 yards after practicing for just a couple of weeks, how far do you think a guy like Phelps could go? 50 yards seems like a slam dunk. How about 75? 90? I wouldn’t even think that 100 yards is out of the question for him. It’s simply mind-boggling how much talent that guy has, and how hard he works to optimize it.

* The article about running on the Pebble Beach golf course was something of a tempest in a teapot around the Monterey Peninsula. I was still receiving e-mail about it several days afterwards – far past the usual 24-hour shelf life my column enjoys before becoming a bird cage liner somewhere. It was the top-viewed story on the newspaper website for more than 48 hours (ahead of things like gang shootings and public layoff notices), and was also picked up by a couple of golfing websites. Sometimes it stuns me how much publicity you can get by stirring up a little controversy.

Sure, the attention was nice for a while – but after it was all said and done, you know what I felt best about? Getting to know Mark, the Executive VP at the Pebble Beach Company. He turned out to be a completely stand-up guy, and I really enjoyed talking and exchanging e-mails with him. In fact, we've kept in touch since the article came out, and realized that we share several mutual acquaintances, and our kids will attend the same school next year. Since our paths will inevitably cross one day, I’m especially glad I decided not to do a hatchet job on him in the paper.


* In regards to the Steinbeck items, and the possibility of a series of blog posts about him: that might not happen for a while. I meant what I said about feeling woefully inadequate to do the whole story justice; it’s something that I would want to devote some time and research to, and I’ve just got too much on my plate to attempt that right now. However, the Salinas Valley – in particular, one novel mentioned below - has been at the forefront of my thoughts lately, so it’s probably inevitable that I’ll try to illustrate it in small doses on this site after the first of the year.

Salinas Valley sunrise, last week

In the meantime, my recommendation for anyone who has a thirst for Steinbeck and Salinas is to do what I did this fall: read his epic novel East of Eden. It’s a complete tour de force, as significant a monument to the author’s collective work as any statue or library can ever symbolize. In fact, Steinbeck himself once said of the book, "I think everything else I have written has been, in a sense, practice for this."

And if for some reason you thought I was exaggerating the conflicted emotions between city and author, consider the following two historical footnotes to East of Eden:

1) Its working title was The Salinas Valley, and Steinbeck often referred to it as his “love letter” to the region he called home, but …

2) When he first imagined writing the “novel of Salinas” in 1930, he said “It should be left for a few years yet, because I hate too many people there.” It took him 21 more years to make his peace with the community and begin writing the masterpiece. Lucky for us that he finally did.

That’s all for the updates. And now for something completely different …

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It seems somehow curious that a band made up entirely of blind men would invest time in making a music video. On the other hand, the Blind Boys of Alabama have been defying conventional standards for nearly seventy years.

Among their landmark albums is 2003’s Go Tell It on the Mountain, a Grammy-winning collection of holiday songs in their typical soulful, majestic style. The album is equal parts classics that you know and love, and renditions that are like nothing you’ve ever heard before.

In that latter group is a song called “Last Month of the Year,” which kicks off the holiday album. It’s become our kids’ favorite holiday song, and it’s always the first song that pops out from the CD player once the boxes of Christmas decorations are brought down from the attic.

As you can imagine, I was pleasantly stunned to learn that a video for the song exists; it’s embedded below for you to enjoy. You have to wait about 45 seconds (and through a 30-second ad - sorry) to get to the good stuff – but trust me, it’s worth the wait.

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Blind Boys of Alabama – “Last Month of the Year” (click to play):

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