Running....and remembering.

running....and remembering.
Current mood: forgotten

In light of my current disasterous situation - the impending move from my home, the lack of support and understanding from my children, and the soon-to-be undeserved large payments to my shameless and unconscionable ex....I decided to go for a run tonight. I figured it would help burn off some stress...and take my mind off of things for a bit.

Boy, was I wrong.

Taking off my from my house I had my IPOD tuned in to my favorite running music...Audislave's album "Cochise." Quite possibly one of the best albums of all time if I may say so. As I started out, things were okay....it was dark, pretty late to be running at 9:00 p.m. - but my neighborhood isn't THAT bad, so I figured what the hell. Actually, as I hit the first long stretch of deserted roadway, I was imagining what would happen if some asshole gangster decided to cross my path. There aren't a lot of shitbags in my neighborhood, but every now and then I come across one...and realize that East Anaheim isn't what it used to be.

And I start thinking it would be a bad idea for someone to try and jam me up for my IPOD tonight, since I'm carrying my brick of a cellphone/PDA in my right hand (which is, incidently, my striking hand) and I'm in such a shit mood - that I'm liable to kill someone with my bare hands if I get the chance. I'm imagining how satisfying it would be to come across some piece of shit asshole who thinks it would be fun to screw with the lone female runner at 9:30 p.m. - on a deserted stretch of roadway. And I'm relishing the thought of what a HUGE surprise he would be in for, when I unleashed all this pent up anger and fury on him - and kicked his fucking ass. I keep visualizing the swiftness in which I could wack him square in the nose with this large metal cell phone I've got a death grip on - effectually busting his nose wide open and stunning him - before I decide to deliver a full force kick to his nuts. I'm further playing out this little scenario in my mind, by kicking this fucker in his head as he lays writhing in pain on the ground....as I'm calling for Anaheim PD to come and rescue his ass and haul him off to jail.

Fortunately (or unfortunatley), I didn't come across any gang bangers, or trouble makers, or ner-do-wells, and my little violent fantasy didn't come to fruition. In fact, my pent up hostility got channeled into a full blown melt down as I hit the second mile....and saw the fireworks from Disneyland off in the distance.

Actually, the first thing I saw was a man and a little boy, standing on the freeway overpass - watching the fireworks. The same way I used to take the boys to watch them when they were little. That was always one of the benefits of living in Anaheim - you could always see the Disneyland fireworks everynight at 9:30. And I used to watch them all the time with the kids when they were young....

So I'm running southbound on Glassell, past this man and his son....and I make the mistake of stopping to look. First at them, then at the fireworks. And I see the past 10 years of my life all rolled up into this little boys face, and the wonder in his eyes at the fireworks, and I'm so sad and lonely all of sudden - and wanting to tell this man - this stranger - that this is the best it's ever going to get. Watching some fireworks on the side of the road with your kid. I'm so suddenly stricken with loss, and with this sense of melancholy and sadness....that I decide to just keep running. Away from the little boy, and the fireworks, and the memories of what my life used to be. So on I go.....

I run faster...and faster....until my heart rate monitor tops out at 196 beats per minute, and I'm sure I'm going to die of over exertion. I slow down....and then it happens. Just as the song on my IPOD clicks to the next one...."Like a Stone" - I come into view of the school where my kids used to have their basketball practices. Where I used to watch them and their team mates....and offer tips and help them with their lay-ups. Twice a week, never missing a practice - always hoping their Dad would show up, and thankful for their sake that he did (sometimes) manage to come. As the song played on, I walked over to the fence just outside the courts....and suddenly the floodgates opened, and the tears and heartbreak poured out of me. Given the exertion with the running, and now the full blown sobbing, I was having a hard time choking back the sobs....let alone breathing. Luckily, the loud gasping sound that I was making found no audience in the empty parking lot....and I stood there crying, and remembering - all by myself.

Where did the time go? When did they become so grown that they no longer needed me? And why didn't I realize how precious and wonderful those afternoons at basketball practice were? It felt like he was singing about my life in that song....and every verse brought more and more tears, until I couldn't take it anymore...and again I started to run. Running....from the memories and the pain, from my fear of failure as a parent, from my life. Faster and faster I went, trying to escape the haunting sense of familiarity that only served as a reminder of what used to be. But no matter how fast I ran....or how loud I turned up the sound of Chris Cornell's voice drowning out my sobs, I just couldn't escape it. And so on I went....on a path filled with ghostly reminders of the past.

On past the riverbed trail, where Daryl and I used to ride our bikes. On past my parents old house - where the boys and I lived during the police academy - and where I could always go when I needed a sense of "home." Where the kids and I spent every Holiday before my parents retired and moved to Arizona in 2003. On past Rio Vista elementary school, where the boys spent their entire adolescence, and I spent every Monday and Wednesday and countless hours in between volunteering in their classes, or chaperoning field trips, or taking them their favorite Del Taco lunches (which always made their friends jealous - and them very happy). On past the park where they both used to play basketball with their friends after school and every weekend, where I took them from the time they were 3 and 4 to play on the jungle gyms and swings, where Douglas and Christopher got their first taste of independence walking to school alone for the first time in the 2nd grade (okay, so I cheated and followed them in the car taking pictures - but they never saw me). On past the cement steps and bleachers of the baseball field where I videotaped them and their friends skateboarding in the 4th and 5th grade - doing their little "ollies" and grinding rails that made them so pleased with themselves. On past the greenbelts of my condo complex, where they used to spend their days playing football, or tag, or throwing water balloons at their friends, on past the community pool where it seemed as though I was the only parent who ever took the time to take all the neighborhood kids swimming....where the boys used to beg me to take them "night swimming" because it was so much cooler to go to the pool when it was dark outside. On and on this journey into the memories of my past went....

And then finally, I was back at my house. A house which used to be filled with so much laughter, and love, and arguing, and life. Only now, it's empty. And as I stepped inside my back door, Chris Cornell's voice was still blaring in my ears...echoing the sentiments swirling in my head with the lyrics of "Shadow on the Sun." Which is equally prolific, and equally appropriate for my current state of affairs.

Checking my watch, I see I've finished the 3 mile run in my best time ever - and everyone who knows me knows how much I loathe running. I'm now thoroughly exhausted. Physically, emotionally, and mentally - just exhausted.

And as I start to end this blog with the words, "My run is done" - I realize that phrase has so much more meaning to it than a mere excercise reference. For 13 years I shared everything with two amazing boys, so many wonderful times, filled with such love and happy memories. But now it's someone else's turn to share their lives, and I'm no longer their "go to" person. I'm no longer a factor in any of their decisions, their hopes and dreams, their lives. So yes, hard as it is to accept, it would appear that not only as a nod to my recent workout, but as a parent as well......my run is done.

"Like a Stone"

On a cobwed afternoon
In a room of emptiness
By a freeway I confess
I was lost in the pages
Of a book full of death
Reading how we'll die alone
And if we're good we'll lay to rest
Anywhere we want to go

In your house I long to be
Room by room patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone I'll wait for you there
Alone

On my deathbed I will pray
To the gods and the angels
Like a pagan to anyone
Who will take me to heaven
To a place I recall
I was there so long ago
The sky was bruised
The wine was bled
And there you led me on

And on I read
Until the day was gone
And I sat in regret
Of all the things I've done
For all that I've blessed
And all that I've wronged
In dreams until my death
I will wonder on