On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Ode to the Garmin Forerunner 305. With love, Tracy

I'm standing outside;
it's cold.
"Locating satellites...

"Locating satellites..."


I'm standing outside;
it's still cold.
I push you away from me -
I pull you in near me.
"Locating satellites..."

I'm still standing outside;
it's still cold.
I'm waiting.
"Are you indoors?"
No.

I'm still standing outside;
it's still cold.
I'm still waiting.
"Have you moved hundreds of miles/km since the last use?"
No.

I'm still standing outside;
it's still cold.
I'm still waiting;
I'm growing impatient.
"Is today 28 Jan 2010?"
Yes.

"Locating satellites...
"Locating satellites..."
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