Waterfall

i'm just a puppy, but i'm a puppy that digs music. rembrandt had this semi-cheesy commercial before my birthday that played upon the emotions of people who weren't getting laid. or were, but fucked themselves by making poor decisions. either way, it used griffin house's "waterfall," and it reminded mp of why she loved his work. eventually, he'll play some obscure venues out this way again, and people with glow-in-the-dark smiles will come with their bubble gum-snapping dates to sway to the same song they heard in the commercial.

until that time comes, mp will continue to use waterfall and other songs during her hikes. when she first started going on these marathon moseys through local (and not so local) hills, she kept almost all up-beat music on her player. a few weeks ago, something changed. the shift was imperceptable. there was no moment of awareness in which mp realized that she had begun stretching out her runs with the aid of music so slow that it seemed more appropriate for a junior high dance, but there it was. and sometimes these hikes/jogs become like long meditations. the agony that accompanies every fresh start eventually tapers off into numbness. the numbness is followed by a burst of energy, often with a mild surprise that her body can do these things now.... and after that energy is no longer so fresh and overwhelming, the rythmn of her trail runners slapping dirt, scrub, asphalt, grass, rock, stream, begins to feel dream like.

and slower music on the mp3 keeps the illusion of the dream going far longer than mp ever thought she could go. today, it was 96 degrees on the trail, and it was 4 miles and 64 ounces of water before mp realized that she was somewhere far above the city. alone. as she felt her chest struggle to take in enough air to egin the run back down, she was suddenly aware of the vastness of her clothes. the t-shirts she had bought when they were still far too small to wear were now so big that the soulder caps came half wy down to her elbows; the legth was now past mid thigh. the weigh of them was physically and emotionally exahausting....

but she had worn them because she still didn't feel like she could fit in anything else.

with a laugh, she took off her t shirt and ran down in her sports bra and tank. at some point, we all have to let ourselves off the hook and begin seeing what is real. some of the t-shirts mp packed away this afternoon have a value that cannot be described or even reasonably explained. it's just there, floating below the surface. the thing is, mp is no longer floating. she is pulling away with strokes made powerful by adversity and confident by luck.

but the images will always be available at the end of a long hike, if the desire to see is real. i think i'll miss this t-shirt the most. it's me, you see. and them. but mostly it was peace.