the music that got me through
It’s the day after. And whoa Nelly. It’s really, really the day after. Sigh. I’m a tad sore, you see. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, so there’s a plus. But not running for 3 weeks, then running the hell out of running, well, it takes a toll. My hip flexors, my middle back, my shoulders even…sore, sore, sore.
Last night, Matt was asleep at 8 on the floor with a single throw pillow. He looked pretty peaceful, too. Claire and I played around him, then 30 minutes later, I cattle prodded him to bed. Claire was pretty wiped too, as was I, so we read a quick book and off to bed we all went.
The house was dark and silent by 8:45. It was almost sad.
I was awoken by Claire at 7:30, where she instantly started yammering on about the cereal she had for breakfast and cartoons that were on the TV. (She calls it “the TV,” not me.) I could barely open my eyes. Forget the fact that I had taken a 3 hour nap after the race. Forget that I went to bed at 8:45. Forget the fact that it was almost ELEVEN HOURS later. I couldn’t open my dang eyes! Pathetic.
About 15 minutes later, I willed myself out of bed and off my day began.
I made it to the gym around 5 this afternoon where I walked and walked and walked some more on the treadmill. Hip flexors be damned. I wasn’t going to take this being sore lying down. (Although that did sound pretty damn appealing.)
While at the gym, my ipod was playing all the same music I had during the race. And I thought back to the race and the mental battle that goes on while willing your body to not stop moving.
See, something about me is that, I could run a marathon if I wanted to. I could do a triathlon in my sleep. I could do anything, if my mind would let me. Here’s what I mean – take the Army for example. I remember my drill sergeant telling me on the first day we got there: “This is going to be a long-ass 10 weeks if you let your mind get the best of you. Just let your body do what we tell it to do and tell your brain to shut up and you’ll do just fine.” Easier said than done. When we would be getting “smoked” in the Pit for hours on end, I’d be near tears at times, because I’d be getting so frustrated, so angry. When I stopped to think for a minute, I’d remind myself, “Cassie, for the love of God, they’re not out to get you. They’re out to make you survive war. Avoid death. Save others. Get over yourself.” Sometimes it would work, sometimes it wouldn’t. My mind usually got the best of me.
Life, like the Army, is 90% mental, 10% physical. So it goes, I suppose.
So while at the gym today, I was listening to the music that got me through. Bear with me now. My taste is a touch eclectic.
The first song I had queued up for the start of the race was, “Enjoy the Silence,” by Depeche Mode. I don’t know what it is about that song, but it got me into a good step as I pounded the pavement of Oakland’s 5th Avenue.
A new favorite came on – Mumford and Sons, “Little Lion Man.” If you haven’t heard it, here it is:
I expect big things from this group.
Then it shuffled to “Anna Molly,” by Incubus. It’s a great song to get the spirits a-movin’. Plus it’s rather odd and keeps the mind nice and blank. That got me to Duquesne University.
I passed up a few other songs, but I was starting to get a bit discouraged since I had only passed my second water station (meaning I had another mile to go) so I stopped when it hit “Fa Fa,” by Guster. It’s Claire’s new favorite song and has been a favorite of mine for years. The lyrics go:
“When you look in the mirror
Wish you were somebody else.
Just a perfect reflection
You and no one else…”
Next I needed some mojo going, so I put on Fergie’s “London Bridge.” Yup. That’s right. OH SHIT is most definitely every other word. It got me back up to pace.
The last song in the queue? Meatloaf. Yup. “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.” That’s right.
“OK, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here,
Two down, nobody on, no score, bottom of the ninth,
There’s the windup, and there it is, a line shot up the middle,
Look at him go. This boy can really fly! He’s rounding first and really
turning it on now, he’s not letting up at all, he’s gonna try for
second; the ball is bobbled out in center, and here comes the
throw, and what a throw! He’s gonna slide in head first, here he
comes, he’s out! No, wait, safe-safe at second base, this kid
really makes things happen out there. Batter steps up to the
plate, here’s the pitch-he’s going, and what a jump he’s got,
he’s trying for third, here’s the throw, it’s in the dirt-safe at
third! Holy cow, stolen base! He’s taking a pretty big lead out
there, almost daring him to try and pick him off. The pitcher
glances over, winds up, and it’s bunted, bunted down the third
base line, the suicide squeeze is on! Here he comes, squeeze
play, it’s gonna be close, holy cow, I think he’s gonna make it!”
Heh, heh, heh.
And I crossed the finish line!
Sometimes it’s the random, odd songs that just get me going. Plus, when you’re tired, sweaty and your mind is in twenty different directions all of which are eluding to wanting you to stop moving in general…you need a laugh.
At least it wasn’t “I Would Do Anything for Love.”
But I still love that song, too.