You're behind me, so, so is your weather.

Today was a great day. The keyword in that last sentence: "was."  It quickly disolved into a stressful tension filled night, due to a confluence of unrelated factors.  In the same trend, a 1991 group of Massachusetts swordfishermen was stranded in the center of four unique storms all converging at once.  The Perfect Storm is by no means a happy movie.

My day was pretty good; basically your average school day.  No tests, trip to dentist revealed no cavities, perfect track workout to prepare for big race this weekend, and my beloved Red Sox are in good shape. What happened? Well, my sister happens to be practically the average teenage girl. Nothing wrong with this except there is that phase where every girl wants nothing to do with her family - especially a big brother.  Those interactions were less than pleasant, putting a damper on my good day.  Second, I have a lot of homework, which a challenging curriculum at a well respected school will do for you. Lastly, and perhaps most significantly, there was little good food in the refridgerator- hate when that happens.  The primary problem was my family's having to deal with one too many personalities under one roof.  I guess I only have to cope with my only sibling wishing we were not related for a few years when she grows out of it.  Go teen drama!

The men of Gloucester portrayed in The Perfect Storm are not happy that they are being dragged out for one more tour in the swordfishing season. Once out, they have the catches of a lifetime in a remote area, and plan to reurn home through the georgious weather they have seen to make bank selling the fish. This is when freak chance lands four major storm systems meeting directly in their path, and the elect to try to push through it.  I am sure I will make it home through the once in a lifetime storm.

Man, it feels good to just run again.

Every athlete understands that to excell in one particular field you have to approach it professionally. A certain level of routine and time commitment is required. I can not simply be viewed as fun and games. By the same token, to reach elite status in any sport, but especially running, you have to remember why you loved it in the first place.

No one understands this better than olympic gold medalist, and subject of the bio-pic Running Brave, Billy Mills.  Mills was an elite distance running native american who got recruited to enlist and run for the US Army track club. After his tour was complete he went on scholarship to Kansas University, where training rigor picked up, but results suffered. After  racing poorly for long enough, Mills quit the team, dropped out of school, and returned to the plantation. he began running on his own again just for the thrill of it. He ran for the sake of running. It made him feel powereful and it made him feel free. Next thing you know, he pulls off a remarkable upset to earn gold in the 10000m at the Tokyo Olympics. 

Lately, my running has been focused on not pressuring my old injuries and sharpening up for race day. Today was a little different.  I was not to do the workout with my team, but instead just went into the trails for a run by myself.  I had been missing such runs.  I killed an hour at a relatively fast pace through trail systems that remainded me why I love New England in the fall.  I was free to change pace as I saw fit and sort out my  thoughts without distraction. Running gives me a sense of self.  I get some quality time with only me to recover from a long day. It is theraputic in a way, and looking down at a watch the whole time is no way to relax.  I honestly think we could all use one of these every now and again.

I'm in pretty deep doodoo here.

Yes, it is a little melodramatic to compare life to Aron Ralston's struggle in 127 Hours. Yes, I am going to do it anyway.

Stripping it down to its most basic elements, this is literally a film about being trapped. We follow Aron as he gets himself pinned "Between a Rock and a Hardplace." For the generation of us still having to deal with the limitations of life in high school this is a very real feeling. Of course the adults  will argue that working life is much worse despite greater income, independence, autonomy, and influence: "Poor Us."

A student 30 hours a week pinned down at school, dozens more on assignments, more on extracurriculars, not to mention real life obligations which are more often than not forced upon us by our elders.  I missed the better part of the Red Sox game and had to take my dinner on the run in order to keep pace with the rigorous lifestyle that my school and parents hold me to. Remember though, 127 Hours is also a film about adversity. 

I managed myself well enough to complete all of my duties in a relatively timely manner, and have the opportunity to whine about how tired I am now via the outlet of social media.  The world is beginning to favor youth, and we did not even have to cut our own arms off.

Wild thing, you make my heart sing.

Lives, summers, seasons are all defined by ups and downs. No one understands this better than the Boston Red Sox and their fan base: Red Sox Nation. After an abismal April, there was virtually no hope for the season in the eyes of  most of the country. In the fun baseball comedy Major League, not even Cleveland's local fans thought the Tribe had a playoff shot.

Then along came an all new cast of characters. Many of them crazy, all of them unheard of, none of them talented, this odd group of ball players lead the city of Cleveland through a rollercoaster unimagineable in reality. They got off to the expectedly poor start, showed promise, seemed out of it, and stormed back to clich a chance to play in october.

Now to my boys of summer, the Boston Red Sox. Brutal start masked by a solid followup left many puzzled by the franchise. A short slump ensued, but the greatest three month stretch in team history skyrocketed the Sox to the top of the baseball world. I was ecstatic. Recently, they habve returned to the embarassing ways of the spring, but are still hanging around.

The reason this is being posted so late- into the morning in fact- is that it took no fewer than fourteen innings for the second bill for a double header at Yankee Stadium to find a conclusion. Again, it was the odd cast of characters, highlighted by a power hitting leadoff man.

I had quite the up and down day. Slept in, but then had to go out for brunch. Got work done, but felt bad on run. Sox triumphed, but I am not going to get to bed until almost one. If only Jake Taylor could bunt me home a snow day for tomorrow.

I can handle more pain than anyone you've ever met.

Without Limits is not a film about failure, despite the fact we are forced to suffer through the demise of the beloved protagonist. All of the hard work and struggles of distance running legend Steve Prefontaine are explored as we build up to his collapse at the Munich Olympics.

The big stage. The world's eye. These were simply too much for Pre, despite the fact he may have been the most talented athlete on the planet.  This is reflective of the day my team and I had at the New Balance Manchester Invitational this morning. 

While many teams run quite a few races in september, our cross country program held out and made this the first true competetion of the long season. It pitted us, the undervalued dynasty of New Hampshire athletics, against ten of the best teams in New England. From this eleven team field, we placed ninth. It was an embarassment. If it could have gone wrong, it did. I was hurt leading up to race day, much like Perfontaine having to deal with a well rested Lasse Viren instead of a tired one he had expected to race. Another runner got sick and did not show up at all. Prefontaine was boxed in when he wanted to make an early move to the lead. One of our top guys felt bad and began walking, running a slower time as a junior than he had as a freshman. Pre got stuck in the outside lane in a four way fight on the last lap, finishing last in that group and being denied a medal. 

Individually, I should have been in the top ten today, but was forced to settle for fourteenth. Worse was our favorited team sliding near the bottom.

The first time we see Steve Prefontaine race after the olympiad is at his home track of Hayward Field in Eugene, OR. He is not optimistic going in, predicting a poor showing. Despite this lack of confidence, he utilizes the group running with a close friend and roar of the crowd to puch him through to an easy win and new american record in the 5000m run. Next week, we race on an even bigger stage in North Carolina. Hopefully matching Pre's turnaround.

You Listen to Me, Buster!

My day very narrowly resembled one of the most fun weekends in pop culture history: Joel Goodsen's parent-free extravaganza we know as Risky Business. No, I did not get chased by a hostile pimp, drive a porsche into the water, or lose any priceless decoration. I did listen to a little Seger in the car, but mostly I was on my own.

That is not a joke, hyperbole, or self-pity statement.  From the final bell at two o'clock until roughly seven-thirty, I was to tend to myself. This does not bother me as much as I find it odd. It is a school night. My dad's work must end sometime. My sister has homework to do. My mom said it might be just me few a little bit but there was no way she would know how late I might get home from school and I was still isolated for quite some time. 

So, what did I do with this newfound resource of free time. It's an alien concept to me so I opted to take full advantage.  In the film, Joel begins by simply sitting down to dinner before entertaining himself in peculiar ways (we won't discuss what happens when he finally pushes it too far). I first went and took some initiative into gaining the work experience necessary to making it in the world, asking about internship opportunities at the local paper. At home, I, by myself now, cleaned my car. I know, weird. Vacuuming, trash pick up, and tire pressure checks filled a substantial amount of that time. The rest was doing your basic lazy activities of eating from the fridge and watching old movies. I guess the highlight of my day was that it had no highlight, just like the conclusion of Risky Business inferring that nothing had changed over the course of a few radical days.

What would you do if you knew there would be no tomorrow?

Bill Murray's character poses this existential question in the classic comedy Groundhog Day. Despite the sense of freedom and eliminated risk, Phil is litterally trapped in his own life, reliving February 2nd time and time again. 
Don't we all feel like this every now and again? Stuck in the same routine seemingly without liberation?
My life, for better or for worse, is built on repatition. Today was much like any other. I woke up, twenty minutes late of course. I sat through six hours of my catholic school education. I led cross country practice. Yesterday, I did very much the same thing. I feel like the anti-hero Phil Collins, but then again there is a tomorrow. This is the real world and as much as it seems like it this is not a film fantasy world. We are not granted the opportunity to relive our days without consequence, but we are better for it.
So, instead of driving on the tracks and throwing punches in the streetsembrace tomorrow; even if it is exactly like today.