I’m starting to think about MdS as a restful vacation with a bit running thrown in. I’m not underestimating the desert running, (I’m entirely expecting to be squashed by the running and pack-carrying), but getting off the treadmill at 11:30 last night having sweated through my Das Parka, (through it people!)
with far too few hours of sleep under my belt… Well, the all-I’ve-got-to-do-everyday-is-run-and-eat-and-sleep of MdS really started to seem luxurious. (And no, I’m not wearing pants in this picture. I was wearing puffy pants, but I couldn’t stand the wet polyester clinging to my legs after an hour. I do have shorts on. I’m not that kind of garage treadmill runner.)
I stole Eliot’s iPad to pass the treadmill time, and ended up watching a movie about Marco Olmo called “Il Corridore.”
It’s both wonderful (even if you aren’t stuck on a treadmill with a heavy pack on your back) and depressing. The man does not smile much in the movie, and running doesn’t seem to fill him with much joy despite his wonderful accomplishments. All his running has a sense of futility about it. Maybe my take was influenced by the treadmill and the soaked polyester layers, but it was not an inspiring movie. Success is fleeting, the body decays, death is inevitable, nobody will remember you, etc. etc. Ultimately, however, it was probably just the right thing for me to watch right now. All this running and sweating has to serve some higher purpose or it’s useless. More on that tomorrow.
Off to change a Ruby’s diaper now.