My long run this past Saturday reminded me of what
running means to me. It's certainly about self-improvement and taking on
challenges. And so I did run way way way farther than I ever have -- spent ALL
morning and into early afternoon psyching myself up to run 16, and by the time I was done with the Berkeley Marina
I couldn't stand the prospect of returning along San Pablo, or even Frontage Rd
for that matter, so I instead returned by way of campus and Telegraph. And by
the time I stopped I actually felt like I could: a) run 1 or 2 miles more, b)
walk an additional 2, and, c) probably crawl another.... Ok, no plans to ever
crawl if only a medal is on the line.
But running is never just, or even mainly about the personal challenge. It's more so about discovery, seeing sights I never would on my couch or in my car, and almost always being reminded, to take the words of Desiderata, that "with all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world." Call it "runner's high" I suppose. Be that as it may, it IS our world.
And running is also about community, as if my circuit is a hug around the city and environs I love. I lap Lake Merritt and hear it say, "Good job!" I return, "You too!" So, yesterday I was blessed to come across, at 6 different points, students or teachers from my school. They were fishing on the Berkeley Pier or hanging out on bikes at Jack-in-the-Box; calling out "Mr. Anderson!" from yard sales or 3 story windows. Three of these students, of the 950 at my school, I’ll actually be teaching tomorrow or Tuesday. And then there was also the double-taking man as he looked up, garden spade in hand, clad in Birkenstock's with socks and Dr. Livingston I presume safari hat. Honestly, this man, my colleague, was in my initial estimation “some old dude” until we made mutual recognition, and then he was M---. It is something to be regarded; that is what the Cheers song is all about. And that is certainly what that “Hey, Mr. Anderson!” time and again was all about.
It was no special day, just a day that I ran. But as I came across my various students, I thought, I am in your world and you are in mine. And also that I hope that I can give them enough as their teacher at MLK Middle, or simply as a role model (being the only black male teacher at my school), and that they will learn and try and earn enough knowledge to know something of the world and even more about themselves, so that in concert with their many other teachers and role models at King and beyond, they may, say 10, 15, 20 years from now be as at home in their world as they were when I saw them, and as I was as a I ran my 18.25.
But running is never just, or even mainly about the personal challenge. It's more so about discovery, seeing sights I never would on my couch or in my car, and almost always being reminded, to take the words of Desiderata, that "with all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world." Call it "runner's high" I suppose. Be that as it may, it IS our world.
And running is also about community, as if my circuit is a hug around the city and environs I love. I lap Lake Merritt and hear it say, "Good job!" I return, "You too!" So, yesterday I was blessed to come across, at 6 different points, students or teachers from my school. They were fishing on the Berkeley Pier or hanging out on bikes at Jack-in-the-Box; calling out "Mr. Anderson!" from yard sales or 3 story windows. Three of these students, of the 950 at my school, I’ll actually be teaching tomorrow or Tuesday. And then there was also the double-taking man as he looked up, garden spade in hand, clad in Birkenstock's with socks and Dr. Livingston I presume safari hat. Honestly, this man, my colleague, was in my initial estimation “some old dude” until we made mutual recognition, and then he was M---. It is something to be regarded; that is what the Cheers song is all about. And that is certainly what that “Hey, Mr. Anderson!” time and again was all about.
It was no special day, just a day that I ran. But as I came across my various students, I thought, I am in your world and you are in mine. And also that I hope that I can give them enough as their teacher at MLK Middle, or simply as a role model (being the only black male teacher at my school), and that they will learn and try and earn enough knowledge to know something of the world and even more about themselves, so that in concert with their many other teachers and role models at King and beyond, they may, say 10, 15, 20 years from now be as at home in their world as they were when I saw them, and as I was as a I ran my 18.25.
