Running on empty

I need my tunes for almost everything. I've always said MY tunes, MY music, though I'm not sure why. I guess that's my short 'n simple for "my favorite songs." I have so many favorites. I have songs I listen to for any given reason/time. At a very young age I would often retreat to my room to "listen to my music." Back then it was a huge stack of 45s from my mom's teen years - The Beatles; The Byrds; The Zombies; Elvis; Four Tops; The Beach Boys; The Rolling Stones - you get the picture. I was the only kid I knew who could sing word-for-word all the songs our parents had listened to AND all of the current pop tunes. To this day I'm a sort of walking jukebox, with thousands of song lyrics in my head.

When I'm running I really need music. The music keeps me from focusing on my body - my knees - my breathing - the pain. The music (I swear) makes the endorphin rush faster and stronger, and some songs seem to actually cause the rush. I save those songs for my omigodicantdoit times.

Yesterday, however, I was unable to find my ipod. I looked everywhere for it: the kitchen, where I usually leave it; my car; my purse (three times), to no avail. Because I really try to get out the door by 5:00 so I'm running when there are plenty of people out and when it's still daylight, and because it was already 5:30 I decided to just go. There would be no music. I knew it would suck.

And suck it did. I felt like I couldn't get my pace down; I am so used to pacing my steps by the beat of the music that I was clumsy and uncoordinated (or so it seemed). By the time I had run only a mile my breathing was too loud and too fast. I was sure I'd never make the whole run.

And so I resorted to my old tried-and-true coping mechanisms: counting and singing. "One, two, running shoes; three, four, push for more; five, six, kick some bricks (ok, so that one sucked, but in a split second it was all I could come up with that rhymed); seven, eight, lay them straight (had to continue with the bricks scenario, didn't I?); nine, ten I will win..." And my rule to myself was that the lyrics could not repeat. After about 10 such prose-filled songs I ran out of things that rhymed and it stopped helping me, so I switched to just counting.

I would have to say that counting has been my safety net, my comfort when all else fails, since I was a tot, and has only been reinforced. While being anesthetised for a surgery, it's common practice to have the patient count - usually backward from 10, with the idea that you never reach 1. And what about in the military? Left, right, leftrightleft is really another way of counting, of pacing. Isn't it? And music - music is counting too - "whole notes are 4 counts; half notes are 2 counts; quarter notes are 1 count; etc.) See, mom, I did pay attention in piano lessons! Dance relies on counting...

Counting helped me during labor. I counted through the hard pains and it helped me get through it. I should inject here that "hard pains" doesn't quite express the pain of hard labor, so for all who have not yet given birth naturally (meaning with NO pain killers whatever), "easy pains" are actually very painful. Counting works for me because I know that a number is associated with my destination or goal - my goal or destination is a number; I can count, therefore I can do it. There is an end point. Yes, I do realize that numbers are infinite.....

Sometimes when I'm walking alone for any distance - to pick up lunch for myself, for instance, I count my steps. I rarely count past 100, choosing most times to simply start over after 100. I dunno why. One might think I'm a teeny tiny bit OCD, and one might be correct. As long as no one knows that I count my steps to the store then I'm likely still considered "normal," not that "normal" is a good thing in my mind....

And really, truly, honestly, the whole world can be broken down into numbers - mathematics. Great concept for engineering folks who love that sort of thing (dad and mensa-boy in my family), but what about everyone else?

Counting works....It will get me to my destination - to my goals.

And time doesn’t wait for me, it keeps on rollin'
There's a long road
I've gotta stay in time with
I've got to keep on chasin' that dream,
though I may never find it
I'm always just behind it.

Long Time - Boston