Fun Times...

There's this scene from The Money Pit, or at least I'm pretty sure that's what it's from, where Tom Hanks is running with this fat funny dude who keeps having heart attacks when he goes for a run.

When I was seven this shit was hilarious to me. The movie is still funny. I'm searching for it on my DVR now... nope. That scene, which wasn't even the 5th best scene in that movie, has always stuck with me. It's been cropping up regularly lately. Why.

The Fatman still runs!

3.62 km tonight. Straight run for 25 minutes. My knees screamed the entire time. A guy with a parachute on passed me... three times. But I kept running. I am being rather cruel to the word "running" but I just can't say "panting shuffle-push while-trying-not-to-fall" over and over again. So. I am still running. Something has to be done about this knee thing.

For the first time I think I have a reason that might actually work at motivating me to eat healthier. I've got to lose some weight so this shit doesn't hurt so much. After I finish this and run that first 5K I'm taking a couple weeks and just cycling. Shit hurts y'all.

A running fantasy has been developing and it is time I share it with you as it is beginning to take a life of its own.

When I run, I do everything I can to not consciously recognize that I am running. I make it someone else doing this. I try to trance out to my music. I invent scenarios that cast in the role of the Borg or some such shit. I have one fantasy that I always return to.

The Buffalo.

I picture buffalo running. My job is to keep up with the buffalo for a certain amount of time before I am relieved. Follow the buffalo Caveman. Follow the buffalo.

I am very serious about it.

For quite awhile just imaging buffalo and myself chasing them was enough. At some point however the vision evolved. I guess the harder these runs get the more I try to plunge my psyche into these visions.

It's 10,000 years ago.

I feel the grass brush my legs. Hunters run to my left and right. We run together so that we can spell each other and never lose sight of our prey. Some carry spears. I carry a knife in my teeth because even 10,000 years ago, man needed Rambo. I am Rambo the Caveman Buffalo Runner. That is my Indian name. I am Hunter. I can feel the rhythm of fellowship running all around me. It's impossible to stop running when you are surrounded by people who are just as hungry and in just as much pain as you. I run. I smell buffalo dung. I pray for rain. Mountains in the distance.

And these fucking buffalo keep turning left every quarter mile. But that's when I gain just a bit.

Tonight the vision got more complex. I was adding another 5 minutes to the run which gave rise to a new savage aspect of my people.

We run until we die. Some of us never catch a buffalo. We spend all of our days running and never catch one. But should we catch one we will bask in the glory of life as we share our prey with our tribe. I have a wife and kids, hungry. They follow miles behind hoping that at the end of their trek they will see Father Caveman with blood on his face. As I run I have to swerve around the bodies of my fallen brothers. We run until we die. I can see my son's unforgiving eyes. Hunger holds no compassion. I will run until I die. I have been running since my own father died. He died running. When I die, my son will run. My son is still too small to run. I cannot die yet. I will keep running. The buffalo.

____

I have no idea where this going. It's like I'm experiencing a waking dream. I'm too tired to consciously work out my alter-life, so this shit just plays on some weird Discovery Channel meets Moby meets please god make the music stop adventure. What's funny is I never catch the fucking buffalo. It works perfect that way because I never know when the music will tell me to slow down, so I can never let myself catch the beast otherwise I'd have an excuse to stop.

I do sort of think that should the unthinkable happen while I'm running that my brain's last effort will be to send me to that little hellish heaven before the lights go out. Blood on my face.

Just read this.

Oh fuck.

I guess I'm crazy.

On another note.

I have to share my favorite quote. I already put this on FB and Twitter so you can stop now if you want.

Today I was tutoring Martius on migration.

Me: Okay buddy, what season comes in March?

Martius: Ummm... Leprechaun Day?

If that's the little fucker I'm chasing buffalo for, then I'll run forever. These kids are fantastic. I have been laughing at odd moments all day thinking about him saying that.

Until Tomorrow...